The words pronounced by this individual have no doubt already caused the reader to recognize our Chaudoreille, who had remained in the place where the robbers, disguised as chair porters, had left him. Urbain was startled on hearing himself thus addressed, but being one of those persons who are insensible to fear, he calmly seated himself on the stone, saying,-- "Pardon me, monsieur, I did not see you." Chaudoreille half rose, looked at Urbain, and began to feel reassured. Besides, what had he to fear now? His money was gone and his costume would not be likely to tempt robbers. Rolande, it is true, was still left him, for the thieves had perceived that in his hands the weapon was not dangerous. "By jingo! you woke me up, comrade; and I was having a delightful dream. I still had the two thousand livres of gold in my pockets, when I awakened to the sad reality. O thousand million mustaches! The thieves, the scoundrels! they have taken everything from me. I've had a fine experience; I don't own so much as an obole. O death! O fury! O despair!" Chaudoreille again threw himself upon the ground, and pulled two or three hairs from his mustache. Feeling that this would not restore his crowns, he quieted himself, and again looked at Urbain, who was sighing deeply, and appeared to pay no attention to the despair of the despoiled man. "What the deuce! this is a taciturn fellow," said the Gascon to himself; and then he again addressed Urbain. "I'll wager that you have been robbed, also, comrade. This town is indeed infested with thieves and bandits; one is safe only in the midst of a patrol, and yet one can't be proud of the watch. It was that cursed theatre brought this misfortune upon me; those wretched comedians at the Hotel de Bourgogne dared to mock at a gentleman of my race. Ah, Turlupin, my friend, I'll get even with you. Tomorrow I'll lay a complaint before the criminal magistrate, and I'll put you and Gautier-Garguille in a dungeon. But, alas, that won't restore my two hundred pistoles. I'll wager you haven't as much on you, comrade--hey? By jingo, you sigh as though they had despoiled you of the towers of Notre-Dame. Were you robbed in a sedan chair?" A deep sigh was Urbain's only response; then he murmured to himself,-- "Alas, I have lost her forever!" "I was sure he'd lost his purse," said Chaudoreille, "or rather, that some one had taken it from him. Did you lose it in this neighborhood, comrade?" Urbain looked at him in surprise, then he said,-- "I don't know where she can be. I have been running all over Paris since eight o'clock, and I have learned nothing." "If you only had a lantern, that would help you--was it very large? If we recover it full, comrade, you must share it with me. That's understood." Urbain rose and seized Chaudoreille by the throat, and holding him tightly to the ground, exclaimed,-- "Wretch! do you dare to insult my sorrow? If I should listen to my anger--"