"I never like to claim merit," replied the dwarf, in his usual cynical tone: "I never like to claim merit, especially with people who think themselves generous; because, if they have forgot my merit, and do not intend to reward me, my claim is a reproach which they never forgive; and if they remember my merit, and design to thank me, my claim is a disappointment." "It would be well, my good Bartholo," replied St. Real, "if every one else acted upon the same principle--not alone to those who think themselves generous, as you say, but to all men. It would, I believe, save many a disappointment, and many a bitter aggravation of ingratitude; for I have remarked that, as you say, those who are simply forgetful of services hate those who serve them when they are called on to be grateful. But where is Leonard de Monte? Could not he find out his master's abode as well as you, Bartholo? or is he one of those whose memory of kindness does not outlive the act?" "Good truth, I do not know, my lord!" replied the dwarf. "I never judge of folks on brief acquaintance. His memory of kindness may be as short-lived as a jest at the gallows, or a widow's mourning, or a court lady's constancy--the sincerity of Madame de Montpensier, or the smiles of Monsieur de Mayenne, or any other short thing in this short life, for aught I know; but, in regard to the reason why Leonard's black eyes did not find you out here, it is that they are even now looking for you at St. Cloud. As you were two or three days later than your appointed time, the silly boy took fright, and set out late last night to seek for you. He would fain have persuaded me to go too; but I was not to be wheedled into such an errand. I know well that every fool finds his way to Paris, and that you, therefore, could not well miss it. So I remained quiet, watching every corner till you appeared; and then, as I found you guarded more strongly than necessary, and lodged more holily than I judged you would like, I made bold to bear the tidings to the Duke of Mayenne, begging him to deliver you forthwith from the preaching friars, for fear you should be tired of the friars' preaching." "You did well and wisely, Bartholo," replied St. Real; "and, as this is the first piece of real good-will that I have ever seen you display to any one, it shall not go without reward. There is my purse, good Bartholo; and now, while I dress, give me the news of Paris; for you are sharp enough and shrewd enough, I take it, to discover and to mark all that is passing in this great city."