He left the room and found Jean Ficelle waiting on the landing; he beckoned to the messenger, who said in an undertone: "First of all, my comrade Sans-Cravate went to the same house that I did. I let him go first, as you told me; then I waited till he came out, before I went in." "Very good. And he didn't see you?" "It was impossible. The lady wasn't in, but I found the maid, Mamzelle Rosa, who told me where her mistress was--on Rue d'Angoulême, Boulevard du Temple, calling on one of her friends. I went there and found her, and gave her your letter. She read it, and then gave me this answer for monsieur." With that, Jean Ficelle handed Célestin a letter. He tore it open, hurried to a gas jet to read it, and seemed satisfied with its contents. Having put it in his pocket, he took out a two-franc piece and handed it to the messenger, saying: "Here, this is for you." Jean Ficelle made a wry face as he took the coin, and muttered: "Only that much for going to Rue Neuve-Vivienne, then to Rue d'Angoulême, and coming back here; it ain't very fat pay." "You rascal! I'll wager that the lady to whom you gave my letter paid you, and paid you handsomely too; so that I really ought not to give you anything." "Monsieur is too shrewd," replied Jean Ficelle, with a half-smile; "there's no way of being sharp with him." "Off with you! keep your mouth shut, and I'll employ you again; when you're paid at both ends, it seems to me that you ought to be satisfied." "He's a skinflint, all the same!" muttered the messenger, as he went away. Célestin returned to his friends. "The reply is evidently satisfactory," said Mouillot, scrutinizing his face. "His eyes have the proud gleam of a victor already. Is your Dulcinea very pretty?" "Oh! messieurs, it isn't what you imagine. It's important business." "Are you going to marry?" "No. It's some business on the Bourse. A little money to invest." "Oho! if you're going to be a millionaire, then you can afford to lose at bouillotte.--The champagne frappé, waiter. Now is the time!" "Messieurs," said Dupétrain, with his elbows still on the table, "I was about to tell you a very curious anecdote.--A young woman, whose husband was travelling, desired to know whether, when he was away from her----" "Silence! No more stories! here comes the champagne!--Well, Albert, why don't you drink? You are not in good spirits." "Because my messenger doesn't come," replied the young dandy, with a sigh which he extinguished in a glass of champagne. "Nor mine, either," said Tobie; "but I don't care! he'll come in time. Meanwhile, let us drink and laugh and sing! Champagne till we drop! They treat you mighty well here." "Yes, you seem to be getting along very well," said the artist, with a smile. "Spare yourself, Pigeonnier, my boy; or else you'll make a fiasco, in spite of your letter of recommendation." "I! why I could drink champagne all day without getting drunk; I am so used to it!" Again the waiter appeared, and said: