"That's well; if anyone imagined that this house held one of the prettiest women in Paris, I should nevermore have a moment's peace; I should be incessantly tormented by a crowd of gallants, of profligates, of libertines; I should see this house become the rendezvous of all the worthless fellows of the neighborhood. I couldn't go away for a moment without one of them trying to introduce himself to Blanche, and Marguerite's watchfulness would be as insufficient as my own to frustrate all the enterprises of these gallants. It is to avoid all this annoyance that I withdraw Blanche from the notice of curious people." "Oh, as far as that goes, you do very well; I quite approve your conduct; you must not let them see her, nor allow her to go out for a moment. If you wish, I can say everywhere that she's horrible,--blind of one eye, lame, and hump-backed." "No, no; one must never overdo one's precautions and fall into a contrary excess." "It would be so sorrowful if some miserable adventurer should carry this beautiful flower away from us." "How? carry her away from us?" "I should say carry her away from you; it is only by favor that I see her. She is, in truth, a jewel; she has the candor, the innocence of childhood. Ah, zounds! how happy you are, Touquet, for you are guarding this treasure for yourself, I'll wager." "For myself?" said the barber, knitting his brows; then he was silent for a moment, while Chaudoreille, placed before a little mirror, occupied himself in studying some smiles and glances of the eye. "I have already told you that I do not like questions," responded Touquet at last; "but I see that you will be incorrigible until your shoulders have felt the weight of my arm." "Always joking. You are really a most ironical man." "Come, go up to Blanche's room; you can stay three-quarters of an hour. You must leave by the passageway; I don't wish the people who will be here to see you come from the interior of the house. You will go where I told you, and you will come and give me an account of the result of your enterprise." "At your dinner hour?" "No, this evening, at dusk." "As you please, as you will. Ah, mon Dieu! I am thinking how I can go up to my young pupil without a ruff." "Will that prevent you from singing?" "No, but decency--this naked neck. Lend me a collar,--anything." "Hang it! is it necessary to make so much fuss? Do you think that Blanche will pay much attention to your face?" "My face! my face! It would seem, to hear you, that I am an Albino." "Here's somebody coming; get out." The barber pushed Chaudoreille into the passage, where the latter remained for a quarter of an hour, seeking by what manner he could hold his cloak, and deciding at last to go up to his pupil. CHAPTER V THE MUSIC LESSON Blanche was seated at work near her window, the small, dim panes of which scarcely permitted her to distinguish anything in the street.