"Yes, for I have not seen the marquis since I spoke to you. Never yet has he been so long without coming and I do not doubt but some new intrigue is the cause of his abandonment of me." "Alas, signora, you have divined the truth only too well. "Then I have been betrayed," cried Julia, making a movement of fury, while Chaudoreille went to seat himself at a respectful distance, putting Rolande across his knee. "What did you expect, signora? Men are--men. The marquis did not know how to appreciate your grace, your charms, your--" "Hold your tongue, and tell me immediately all that you know." "She wants me to hold my tongue and yet speak," answered Chaudoreille, rolling his eyes affrightedly. "The name of my rival? Answer me, wretch." "It's this way, signora--but I beg you let me tell you that by order--" "The name of my rival, I tell you," resumed Julia, approaching Chaudoreille furiously. The little man, trembling in all his limbs, muttered,-- "Blanche, an orphan, a young girl whom the barber was caring for." "The scoundrel! I should have known it." "Blanche was to have been married today to a young man whom she loved and who adored her. The barber had given his consent. I don't know by what chance monsieur le marquis came to see the young girl, but he must have fallen in love with her and abducted her, for the night before last she disappeared, and I strongly suspect my friend Touquet of having aided monseigneur's plans. At all events, the little one is not at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine; I have been there and the marquis is not in Paris, since I come from his hotel, where they told me he was in England." Chaudoreille told all this without taking breath, fearing that Julia would do him some ill if he did not hasten his story. "This voyage to England is a falsehood," cried Julia. "I thought so myself." "The marquis has taken the young girl to one of his chateaux." "That is probable." "But to which one? That's what we must discover." "I'm of your opinion, that's what we must discover." "Perhaps this young girl is still in Paris." "That might very well be. This city is a gulf, a young girl could be lost here like a piece of six liards." Julia reflected for some moments, and Chaudoreille remained silent, waiting till she should speak that he might echo her words. The young woman walked up and down the room; one could perceive by the trembling which had possession of her that it was only by a great effort that she restrained her fury. Finally, she stopped before Chaudoreille, and said to him,-- "You think, then, that this Blanche does not love Villebelle?" "I think that, at least, she does not yet love him, since she had never seen him." "How can you be certain of that?" "In fact--you are right, I'm not certain of it at all." "Tell me everything that you know in regard to this young girl, how long she has lived at the barber's and his motive for adopting her."