The barber had ordered dinner early; and at six o'clock in the evening he left the house, repeating to Marguerite: "Redouble your watchfulness, do not allow any man to go near Blanche without my permission, and inform me if you hear anyone singing in the street." The old woman promised to obey. Touquet wrapped his mantle about him and left to execute the marquis' plan. As he was accustomed to conduct similar intrigues, he knew where to procure everything that was necessary; and at a quarter to eight he was on the Pont de la Tournelle, while about a hundred feet from him two men awaited his orders near a travelling-chaise drawn by two horses. For a long time Chaudoreille had been walking on the bridge. Fearing to miss the rendezvous, given for eight o'clock, he had arrived at six; burying his head between his shoulders and hiding his chin under his little mantle, he tried to give himself the air of a conspirator. With his left hand on Rolande's handle and the other holding his mantle, he walked sometimes slowly and sometimes with a precipitant step; and every time that anyone passed him he did not fail to murmur, in such a manner as to be heard,-- "How late she is in coming! What can keep her? I am burning! I am bursting! I shall die with impatience." As soon as he saw Touquet he ran to him and pulled the edge of his mantle; then, looking to see if anybody was passing, he said to him in a mysterious tone,-- "Here I am." "Well, hang it, I see you!" said the barber, shrugging his shoulders; "but I'd much rather see the little one." "She hasn't appeared yet, I can answer for that. I've looked in every woman's face." "It's not eight o'clock; let us wait." "Be easy; I'll go and put myself in ambuscade and examine all the feminine visages." "Take care they don't slap you; that would draw a crowd, and wouldn't please me." "Slap me! They're more likely to kiss me, I should say; but I'll make a grimace, so as not to tempt them." And Chaudoreille, drawing his hat down over his eyes, departed, taking as long steps as his little legs would permit. In about three minutes Chaudoreille returned to say to the barber,-- "There's a woman who has just come along by the Pont Marie, and who is going to pass over this bridge." "Indeed! Is she the one we are waiting for? You ought to know, if you've peered into her face." "No; I wasn't able to do that this time, because she was giving her arm to a man, and he would have been frightened." "If she's with a man it's not our young girl; one doesn't bring witnesses to a lovers' meeting." "That's correct," said Chaudoreille, and he started off again. Some minutes later he returned to Touquet, crying,-- "Here's another one who is coming along this way; but this one is alone, I am sure of that." "Is it our beauty?" "No, it is not she." "You idiot! what did you come and tell me for?" "So that you should not make a mistake; I thought it was my duty to avert that."