"Yes, monsieur, there are curtains," answered the young girl timidly. "Blanche, I've told you that I don't like you to expose yourself to the oglings of the coxcombs who pass and repass in the street." "But, my friend, can anyone see me through the windows?" "Yes; no doubt of it." "Oh, well, my friend, if that displeases you, I won't go to the window again." Touched by Blanche's sweetness, the barber assumed a less severe expression, and, rising from the table, he said, almost kindly,-- "Go back to your room, Blanche; I will try soon to render your life less monotonous. Yes, I feel that you cannot continually remain in such dull retirement." "Why, I am all right, my friend; and if I could only learn that romance altogether, but M. Chaudoreille only sings me his villanelle, and that is not amusing." "I will buy you some others." "Oh, try to get me the one I heard this morning,-- I love to eternity. Can you remember it?" "Yes, yes; I will remember it.--But I am waiting for someone to come; go upstairs to your room." Blanche curtseyed to the barber and gayly went up to her room, while Touquet said to himself, following her with his eyes,-- "Come, I was wrong to make myself uneasy; she knows nothing of him." An hour after this conversation somebody knocked at the barber's door and Marguerite admitted Chaudoreille, who came into the lower room with the important air of a man who is very well pleased with himself. "You're very late," said Touquet, signing to him to seat himself. "Why, what the deuce, my dear fellow! Do you think that these affairs are so speedily arranged?" "I don't believe, however, that you've been all this time in the shop where I sent you." "No, undoubtedly; but I passed a greater part of the time there. After that it was necessary for me to have some dinner, for you did not invite me to partake of yours, I believe." "Well, were you successful? Give me an account of your mission." "I went there. Wait, while I dry my forehead a little." The barber made a movement of impatience and Chaudoreille passed over his face a little silk handkerchief, which for prudence' sake he never unrolled. After emitting some exclamations of fatigue, during which Touquet impatiently stamped his foot, he commenced his story. "To go to that place in the city I could take two roads; I don't know but I could take three." "You wretch! take a dozen if you like, but get there." "It was necessary for me to get there, and then to return here. I decided on going by the Pont-Neuf, then down the quay into the street. You know, where they sell such good tarts." "Chaudoreille, you're mocking at me." "No, I'm not; but it seemed to me I should tell you everything that I did. But you are so petulant. Finally, I took the shortest way. I went into the shop where the young girl works." "That's good luck."