Never had the Chevalier de Chaudoreille felt so clever, so inordinately satisfied with himself. Blanche's image, so sweet, so beautiful, her delightful manner, which possessed all the innocent witchery of girlhood, was still before his eyes, and as he was never lacking in confidence as to his own merits, he readily persuaded himself that the young beauty could not see him with indifference, and was even a little taken with him. On the other hand, the enterprise with which he was charged by the barber, as the agent of the Marquis de Villebelle, flattered his self-love. He believed himself the friend, the confidant, of the Marquis de Villebelle, although the latter had never spoken to him; but he thought that the adroitness with which he would serve him in his amorous plan would be sooner or later known to the great nobleman and would win his favor. Full of this idea, he hastened to reach the shop of which Touquet had spoken. Before entering, Chaudoreille resumed to himself,-- "One mustn't go in here," said he, "looking like a snob, and turn the shop upside down without buying anything. I must not forget that I am sent by a great personage. They have given me ten crowns on account, as the price of my services, but I can very well spend twenty-four sous." This determination taken, he opened the door of the shop and entered nimbly; but in wheeling round in order to appear more graceful and to bow at the same time to the right and left, he sent Rolande's scabbard through one of the panes of the glass door, and it broke in a thousand pieces. Chaudoreille's face lengthened and he felt some confusion, for he calculated that the price of the pane already exceeded the sum he had intended to lay out. Two young persons seated behind the counter burst into laughter, while an old woman placed opposite murmured between her teeth,-- "He must be very awkward." "I will pay for it," said Chaudoreille at last, heaving a big sigh. "Indeed I should hope so," responded the shopkeeper; "but has anyone ever seen a man carry a sword bigger than himself?" At these words the chevalier drew himself up and stood on his tiptoes, and glanced angrily at the old woman. "It's very astonishing," said he, "that anyone should permit herself such reflections. I carry the weapon that suits me, and if a bearded chin had said the same thing to me, my sword would have immediately taken the measure of his body." "I didn't intend to say anything to make you angry," replied the shopkeeper, softening; "only it seemed to me that that long sword would embarrass you in walking." "Embarrass me! That is a different thing," and Chaudoreille turned his back to the shopkeeper to approach the young ladies, saying to himself,-- "I didn't come here to discuss the length of my sword. Let's leave this woman's twaddle." "What do you wish, monsieur?" said a young, squint-eyed girl, with a flat nose, thick lips and crooked chin, whose dark-red skin seemed covered with a coat of varnish.