"She's an angel, monseigneur, divinely beautiful, an enchantress; hardly sixteen years of age, with the figure of a nymph, and Touquet spreads it abroad that she is ugly and ill-made, that there is nothing pleasing about her. He has even ordered me to tell it all about. If I have seen young Blanche it's only because the barber, wishing to have her taught music, was obliged to introduce me into her room, which she never leaves." "This is all very singular," said the marquis, "and you pique my curiosity." "Good! I shall have a hundred pistoles," said Chaudoreille to himself, "that's much better than the two golden crowns which the barber promised me, to say nothing of the honor of acting as the Marquis of Villebelle's business man." "And you say it's not because he is in love with her himself that he hides this young girl," resumed the marquis, after a moment. "No, monseigneur, for a few days from now he is about to marry her." "To marry her?" "Yes, monseigneur, to a young man whom the beautiful Blanche did not know, I am sure; for no one ever went near her except your humble servant. I bet that Touquet has sacrificed her, and that the poor little thing hates her future husband." Here Chaudoreille said what he did not think, but he imagined it more prudent to present the matter in that aspect. The marquis reflected for some moments, then he said,-- "Tell me quickly all that you know about the adoption of that young girl." "Yes, monseigneur. About ten years ago, Touquet, who then had not a sou, took lodgers in addition to his business as a barber and bath-keeper. One evening a gentleman went to his house, with a little girl five or six years old, and requested a bed. Touquet received him. The traveller went out the same evening, leaving his little girl with Touquet, and that night he was murdered in the Rue Saint-Honore near the Barriere des Sergents." "Were the murderers discovered," said the marquis, looking attentively at Chaudoreille. "Oh, no, monseigneur," responded the latter, smiling almost imperceptibly, "but--sometime afterwards Touquet was possessed of enough to buy the house which he had rented." The marquis made a sudden movement, like that of a man who is about to step on a snake. A long silence succeeded, during which Chaudoreille kept his eyes bent on the ground, not daring to seek to read those of the marquis. "And it is the daughter of that man whom he adopted," said Villebelle, breaking the silence. "Yes, monseigneur, it is she." "What was her father's name?" "Moranval, at least, so I believe. Nothing was found upon him but an insignificant letter, which gave no information in regard to his family." "And his daughter is beautiful?" "As far as I am competent to judge, monseigneur, and if you should see her--" "Yes, I shall see her."