Léodgard did not dissemble his sensations when he saw the marchioness again. She looked at him only an instant, but in the glance that she gave him there was the wherewithal to overturn the reason of the most virtuous man; and Léodgard was mad with love already. But the Marquis de Santoval did not leave his wife for an instant; it was impossible for the most enterprising lover to say a word to her in secret, for there was no crowd there to facilitate a private interview. The Comte de Marvejols was obliged, therefore, to allow the marchioness to go away without exchanging a single word with her. But he no longer doubted that she was alive to his passion, and he determined to resort to other methods of seeing her. The Hôtel de Santoval was situated on Rue Sainte-Avoie. During the next few days, Léodgard passed and repassed that hôtel, the great gate of which was always closed. He renewed the occupation of seducer, which he had abandoned of late; but the servants who went in and out had one and all a surly air of the sort that does not inspire confidence; they either answered by monosyllables the questions that were put to them, or walked away without answering at all. The concierge, too, who sometimes appeared for a moment in the gateway, had a crabbed look far from encouraging to lovers. "By hell! I must find a way to send the lovely Valentine a note!" said Léodgard to himself, stamping the ground in vexation. Then as his eye happened to fall on a wretched little wine shop, within a gunshot of the Hôtel de Santoval, he decided to enter. Although enveloped in an immense brown cloak, it was easy to recognize a _grand seigneur_ in the individual who entered the dark and smoky common room of the wine shop; so that the proprietor, who was not in the habit of receiving such guests, outdid himself in salutations, and invited Léodgard to walk into a small room behind his shop, where he could be alone, if such were his pleasure. But Léodgard, preferring not to lose sight of the street and of Valentine's abode, took his seat at a table near the window, saying: "I am very comfortable here; I will not move." "What shall I serve monsieur?" "A bottle of your best wine." The host bowed again; for in those days wine served in bottles was not common, and was correspondingly dear. Only noblemen or rich merchants indulged in that luxury at wine shops. The room in which Léodgard was seated contained but few drinkers at that moment. At the rear, two old soldiers were discussing their campaigns over their wine; there were also three workmen, who were breakfasting very frugally and singing snatches of ballads. The latter soon left the wine shop, to return to their work. A few moments later, two young men arrived; their attire was very modest, but they talked very loudly. As they made their entrance into the room, the shorter one exclaimed: