Chicotin took his leave. Roncherolle stretched out his leg, made a wry face and uttered a hearty oath, because of the pain; then he laid his head on the back of his chair and tried to sleep. Five minutes passed; the hall door opened again, and a gentleman appeared in the doorway; it was the Comte de Brevanne, who said as he glanced into the chamber: "Monsieur de Roncherolle, if you please?" Receiving no reply, the count decided to enter; he saw a gentleman dozing, who had not been shaved for several days, whose head was covered with a huge fur cap, which fell almost over his eyes, and who was wrapped in an old dressing gown of which it was not easy to tell the color. He shook his head, saying: "That boy must have directed me to the wrong door, this can't be the place. Roncherolle would not live in such a wretchedly furnished room; besides, this sick old gentleman in the chair must be at home. I must try elsewhere." Brevanne was about to go away, when Roncherolle opened his eyes and seeing a stranger in his room, cried: "What is it? What do you want of me? Why are you here, monsieur?" At the sound of that voice, which had not changed so much as the person to whom it belonged, the count stopped, shuddered slightly and repeated in a loud voice: "I want Monsieur de Roncherolle." "Well, I am De Roncherolle! what do you want of me?" The count stepped forward; he scrutinized the man before him, and he wondered if that pale, sick creature, whose face had grown thin and indicated long suffering, who seemed to be at least sixty years old, and whose costume was far from denoting prosperous circumstances, could possibly be Roncherolle, formerly so dandified and magnificent, who was cited as a model for men of fashion, and whom all the women admired. As for Roncherolle, for some moments he had been looking attentively at his visitor; the more he looked at him, the more keenly did his features betray the emotion which he felt; and at last when the count exclaimed: "Is it really true that you are De Roncherolle?" he instantly replied: "To be sure, and you are De Brevanne!" The count recoiled, exclaiming: "You dare to use intimate terms to me, monsieur!" "Oh! I beg your pardon, that's true; I should not address you so; I forgot, it was the old habit; but hereafter I will be more careful. Pray sit down, monsieur le comte; I knew you at once, for, except that your hair is turning gray, you are but little changed; whereas with me it is very different; you could not believe that it was I. I have grown old rapidly, I crumbled all at once; add to that all sorts of annoyances, the change in my position, and people turning their backs upon me because I can no longer oblige them, and others because I did oblige them formerly, like Beaumont, De Marcey and De Juvigny! But I am chattering away and you are still standing; pray take a seat and be good enough to tell what brings you here."