“Before I say anything,” remarked the gentleman in the gold spectacles, “I ought to apologize for a proceeding which is--well, what shall I call it?--a little rough, perhaps; but it was necessary to make use of it to obtain this interview with you. Really, however, I had no choice. You are closely watched, and I did not wish the persons who had set spies on you to have any knowledge of this conference.” “Do you say I am watched?” stammered Andre. “Yes, by a certain La Candele, as sharp a fellow at that kind of work as you could find in Paris. Are you surprised at this?” “Yes, for I had thought----” The gentleman’s features softened into a benevolent smile. “You thought,” he said, “that you had succeeded in throwing them off the scent. So I had imagined this morning, when I saw you in your present disguise. But permit me, my dear M. Andre, to assure you that there is great room for improvement in it. I admit that a first attempt is always to be looked on leniently; but it did not deceive La Candele, and even at this distance I can plainly see your whole makeup; and what I can see, of course, is patent to others.” He rose from his seat, and came closer to Andre. “Why on earth,” asked he, “should you daub all this color on your face, which makes you look like an Indian warrior in his war-paint? Only two colors are necessary to change the whole face--red and black--at the eyebrows, the nostrils, and the corners of the mouth. Look here;” and taking from his pocket a gold pencil-case, he corrected the faults in the young artist’s work. As soon as he had finished, Andre went up to the mirror over the chimney-piece, and was surprised at the result. “Now,” said the strange gentleman, “you see the futility of your attempts. La Candele knew you at once. I wished to speak to you; so I sent for Palot, one of my men, and instructed him to pick a quarrel with you. The policemen arrested you, and we have met without any one being at all the wiser. Be kind enough to efface my little corrections, as they will be noticed in the street.” Andre obeyed, and as he rubbed away with the corner of his handkerchief, he vainly sought for some elucidation of this mystery. The man with the gold spectacles had resumed his seat, and was refreshing himself with a pinch of snuff. “And now,” resumed he, “we will, if you please, have a little talk together. As you see, I know you. Doctor Loulleux tells me that he knows no one so high-minded and amiable as yourself. He declares that your honor is without a stain, and your courage undoubted.” “Ah! my dear sir!” interposed the painter, with a deep blush.