The next day, Elina rose as early, dressed even more quickly, and hastily left the house. She was no more fortunate than on the preceding day: the young messenger was not in his place; she loitered about and waited, to no purpose; nor did she see him that evening, when she left her work. A week passed thus, a week which seemed endless to Elina, who was utterly unable to understand Paul's disappearance, and did not know what to think; but her heart was oppressed by anxiety and the keenest sorrow. At last, on the ninth day, when she arrived at Rue du Helder in the morning and looked in vain for Paul, the girl could no longer endure the tortures she was suffering, and accosted Sans-Cravate and Jean Ficelle, who were seated side by side. "I wanted to speak to your comrade--Monsieur Paul," she said, in a trembling voice; "doesn't he stand here any more?" "You can see for yourself," replied Sans-Cravate, with his usual gruffness, intensified by the anger he felt whenever he heard Paul's name. Elina was going away, afraid to ask any further questions, when Jean Ficelle said to her, in a wheedling tone: "If mademoiselle wanted someone to do an errand or carry a letter, or anything else, I am at her service, and I can do what's wanted as well as the one she asks for." "I thank you," replied Elina, "but I didn't ask for Monsieur Paul, to do an errand; that is to say, it was about something I asked him to do; he was to bring me an answer--and I haven't seen him for a week." "Sure enough, mamzelle; he hasn't been in his place for as long as that." "And you don't know what keeps him away? Perhaps he is sick?" Jean Ficelle replied, with a cunning smile: "Oh, no! that ain't the reason he ain't here." "It isn't? Why, do you know what the reason is?" "_Dame!_ we have our suspicions. In the first place, perhaps he ain't a messenger any longer; he had more than one trade." "More than one trade? What do you mean?" "Oh! there's something mysterious about it; he's a man of mystery, is your Monsieur Paul." "I don't understand." "The fellow didn't tell everything he did, you see; and then, there may be another reason. As the young joker has stolen Sans-Cravate's mistress, he's afraid of getting a licking, and dursn't come and stand beside him--see?" "And he does well," muttered Sans-Cravate, clenching his fists; "for a man can't always control himself; and, _sacrédié!_ he'd better look out! I've got a score to settle with him, all the more because he was my friend; and when you hate your friends, you hate 'em worse than you do anybody else." Elina had turned very pale; she gazed at the two messengers in turn, but could not speak, for what she had heard seemed to have deprived her of strength and voice alike; not until several minutes had elapsed did she succeed in faltering: "What! Monsieur Paul--has stolen--the mistress of--of---- Oh, no! no! that is impossible!"