"Be silent, wretch," cried the marquis, suddenly rising, and looking angrily at the barber, who received his glances with perfect indifference. The conversation was again interrupted; the marquis walked rapidly up and down the room, and appeared buried in his reflections; soon, however, broken words escaped him, but they were not addressed to Touquet. The marquis seemed violently agitated as he said in a low voice,-- "Poor Estrelle! what has become of you? She loved me--she believed me to be a simple student. I loved her also; yes, never since that time have I experienced a feeling which I can compare with the love with which she inspired me. I was young--ah, Heaven is my witness that I did not wish to fight with her father. Thanks to Heaven, his wound was very trifling and was soon cured; but Estrelle, when she learned my name and that event, cursed me. Yes, I believe I can hear her still. Then she escaped from that house where I had hidden her. I love her still. Since that time I have never heard of her; and you, Touquet,--have you never met her since?" "Never, monseigneur; I have neither seen her nor heard her speak." "Poor Estrelle!" said the marquis after a moment; and the barber added in a low tone,-- "She would now be thirty-four years of age, or very near that." This remark appeared to lessen somewhat the marquis' regret. "In fact," said he, again approaching the fire, "she would be nearly that age if she were living, and would not appear the same to me as the one I formerly knew. How time passes! Come, let's forget all that; after all, it is much the same as any other adventure,--a chapter in the history of my life." "And did the marquis say that the young girl lived in the Rue de la Calandre in the city?" "The young girl? What young girl?" "The one monseigneur followed this morning." "Yes, to be sure; I had forgotten. You will easily recognize her: her figure unconstrained, her walk brisk; twenty years or thereabouts, I presume; nut-brown hair, black eyes, beautiful teeth, her skin a little brown. I do not think she's French. Something lively in her countenance; nothing that indicates timidity or simplicity. This is all the information which I can give you." "It is sufficient, monseigneur; in two days I hope that the young person will be at your little house." "That's very good.--Wait; this is for your expenses, and I promise you as much more if you are successful." While saying these words the marquis threw on the table the purse filled with gold, which he still held in his hand, and a smile escaped the lips of the barber. His guest resumed his cloak and replaced his hat on his head. "It is late," said the marquis, wrapping himself in his mantle, "and I must go home. The day after tomorrow, toward ten o'clock, I will return to learn the result of your proceedings." "Shall I find anybody at your little house?" "Yes, Marcel, one of my people, a devoted servant who lives there constantly. I will warn him."