The old woman could only sigh deeply, but Urbain was no longer near her, he ran, he flew to the room of his beloved, but that room was deserted, its charming occupant was gone. Marguerite slowly followed the young man. "In mercy tell me," cried Urbain, "where is she? Hide nothing from me." "My poor boy, collect all your courage. Last night somebody carried off our dear child." Urbain remained motionless and overwhelmed, while Marguerite told him all that she knew. He listened without interrupting her, and seemed as if he could hardly yet realize his misfortune, but presently, dropping on Blanche's favorite seat, he yielded to the profoundest despair. The tears rolled down his face; at nineteen years of age one sheds them still in the troubles of life; one has not then that strength of mind which is later acquired in the school of misfortune. Marguerite tried to calm Urbain by saying to him,-- "You will recover her, that dear child, for you are not capable of forgetting her, and coldly consoling yourself for her loss." "I forget her?" said Urbain, pressing the hands of the good old woman. "Ah, Marguerite, is not my life bound up in that of Blanche? I shall take no rest until she is with me again." "That's right, my dear Urbain, to hear you speak thus renders me hopeful; besides, our poor little one has with her a talisman, and that lightens my anxiety a little." "Tell me all the circumstances again; a man came here, you say?" "Yes, he said he was sent by my master, and came to speak to Blanche." "The scoundrel! and what did he say to her?" "Oh, he merely paid her some compliments. He spoke like a great nobleman, and he had the costume and bearing of one, although M. Touquet pretends that he is a wretch without position and without home." "He knows him, then?" "There's no doubt of it. I confess to you that I am afraid, although he did not have a wicked appearance, rather a look of pride, and an imperious tone. I was sorry at having opened the door for him, and Blanche, the poor little thing, trembled. But all this didn't last very long. He heard M. Touquet come in, and immediately the stranger took his mantle, saluted Blanche, and went down to monsieur. I followed him, but they sent me away, and I know nothing further." Urbain left Marguerite, he darted from the chamber and, in an instant, he faced the barber, whose cold and gloomy look contrasted with Urbain's excitement. "Well, monsieur, what have you learned? what have you done to recover my bride," cried he. "Speak! what do you know?" The barber, rendered rather uneasy by the vivacity of Urbain's questions, answered hesitatingly,-- "I have made a thousand inquiries, I can discover nothing." "And this scoundrel who came here yesterday, who is he?" "I hardly know him. He sometimes came into my shop, for what purpose I do not know, and I swear to you that he must have heard of Blanche's beauty, for he had never seen her, and formed the idea of introducing himself to her."