“That creature thinks itself a great man because it does mean things with great capital. Reverse the proposition, and you have the problem of which a man of genius is the solution.--The Baron came home in a pitiable condition. Next day Georges, to get his finger in the pie, said to his master: “‘Why, Monsieur le Baron, do you employ such blackguards? If you would only trust to me, I would find the unknown lady, for your description of her is enough. I shall turn Paris upside down.’--‘Go ahead,’ says the Baron; ‘I shall reward you handsomely!’--Georges told me the whole story with the most absurd details. But--man is born to be rained upon! “Next day the Baron received an anonymous letter something to this effect: ‘Monsieur de Nucingen is dying of love for an unknown lady; he has already spent a great deal utterly in vain; if he will repair at midnight to the end of the Neuilly Bridge, and get into the carriage behind which the chasseur he saw at Vincennes will be standing, allowing himself to be blindfolded, he will see the woman he loves. As his wealth may lead him to suspect the intentions of persons who proceed in such a fashion, he may bring, as an escort, his faithful Georges. And there will be nobody in the carriage.’--Off the Baron goes, taking Georges with him, but telling him nothing. They both submit to have their eyes bound up and their heads wrapped in veils; the Baron recognizes the man-servant. “Two hours later, the carriage, going at the pace of Louis XVIII.--God rest his soul! He knew what was meant by the police, he did!--pulled up in the middle of a wood. The Baron had the handkerchief off, and saw, in a carriage standing still, his adored fair--when, whiff! she vanished. And the carriage, at the same lively pace, brought him back to the Neuilly Bridge, where he found his own. “Some one had slipped into Georges’ hand a note to this effect: ‘How many banknotes will the Baron part with to be put into communication with his unknown fair? Georges handed this to his master; and the Baron, never doubting that Georges was in collusion with me or with you, Monsieur Peyrade, to drive a hard bargain, turned him out of the house. What a fool that banker is! He ought not to have sent away Georges before he had known the unknown!” “Then Georges saw the woman?” said Corentin. “Yes,” replied Contenson. “Well,” cried Peyrade, “and what is she like?” “Oh,” said Contenson, “he said but one word--‘A sun of loveliness.’” “We are being tricked by some rascals who beat us at the game,” said Peyrade. “Those villains mean to sell their woman very dear to the Baron.” “Ja, mein Herr,” said Contenson. “And so, when I heard you got slapped in the face at the Prefecture, I made Georges blab.” “I should like very much to know who it is that has stolen a march on me,” said Peyrade. “We would measure our spurs!” “We must play eavesdropper,” said Contenson. “He is right,” said Peyrade. “We must get into chinks to listen, and wait----”