His extraordinary garb attracted every eye. Some took him for an Englishman, some for a Russian or a Prussian; but if some curious individual stopped and looked after him with a smile on his face, Dubourg would flash a glance at him that put an end to any inclination to laugh at his expense, and conveyed the impression that the stranger, whoever he might be, was not of a disposition to endure being laughed at. But it was necessary to be in the neighborhood of our two friends only a very short time to ascertain the identity of the gentleman in the plumed hat, who sauntered along so gracefully with his glass at his eye; for Monsieur Ménard talked very loud, especially when he saw that someone was noticing them, and never failed to emphasize the "Baron Potoski," or "Monsieur le Palatine," when he addressed his companion; sometimes, indeed, he went so far as to call him "Monseigneur de Rava et de Sandomir." They had been in Lyon a week. Frédéric had not begun to tire of visiting the beautiful suburbs of the city, but Dubourg was beginning to tire of exhibiting himself in the public streets, arm in arm with Ménard. They had been to all the places of resort, all the theatres, and all the cafés; everywhere, Dubourg played the great nobleman, and Ménard unwittingly acted as his accomplice; for the poor fellow was entirely honest, and deemed himself highly honored to promenade with his pupil's noble friend, who was always able to produce an apt quotation and bewildered him by his anecdotes of travel in the four quarters of the globe. For several days, Dubourg had been urging Frédéric to leave Lyon, and he always postponed their departure to the next day, when one morning Dubourg received a letter which put an end to his desire to go away. This letter was addressed to _Monsieur le Baron Potoski, Seigneur Polonais_. Dubourg read the superscription twice. Who could have written to him, and by that name? He asked the landlady who had brought the letter, and was told that it was a servant in livery, who requested that it be delivered to monsieur le baron in person. Dubourg hastened to break the seal, and read as follows: "Monsieur le Baron Potoski is invited to pass this evening with Madame la Marquise de Versac, who will be delighted to entertain the noble stranger, at his pleasure, during his stay in Lyon." The marchioness's address was at the foot of the note, which Dubourg reread several times, and which diffused an odor of musk and amber through his room. "The devil!" said Dubourg to himself; "an invitation from a marchioness! This is decidedly flattering! But how does she know me? Parbleu! a man very soon becomes known when he lives with a certain amount of style. Besides, people must be beginning to talk about me, after I've paraded the streets for a week with Ménard, like a white bear." Dubourg summoned the landlady again, and asked her if she knew Madame la Marquise de Versac.