M. Bourigeau had not yet attained to the heights of such serene philosophy, and as he buttoned his overcoat, he groaned: “Ah! you’re not situated as I am, Casimir. You’ve only yourself to look out for. I have my furniture; and if I don’t succeed in finding a position where I can have two rooms, I shall be obliged to sell part of it. What a blessed nuisance!” As soon as he was dressed he started off on his mission; and M. Casimir, who dared not return to the house, began walking slowly to and fro in front of the lodge. He had made some thirty turns or so, and was beginning to feel impatient, when he saw Victor Chupin approaching. “You are always on hand at the right moment,” remarked M. Casimir. “It’s all over!” Chupin turned eagerly. “Then our bargain holds?” he exclaimed. “You understand what I mean--the funeral, you know.” “It isn’t certain that I shall have anything to do with it; but call again in three hours from now.” “All right, I’ll be here.” “And M. Fortunat?” asked Casimir. “He received what he called a ‘violent shock’ last evening, but he’s better this morning. He instructed me to tell you that he should look for you between twelve and one--you know where.” “I’ll endeavor to be there, although it may be difficult for me to get away. If I go, however, I’ll show him the letter that caused the count’s illness; for the count threw it away, after tearing it into several pieces, and I found some of the bits which escaped his notice as well as mademoiselle’s. It’s a strange letter, upon my word!” Chupin gazed at the valet with a look of mingled wonder and admiration. “By Jove!” he exclaimed, “how fortunate a man must be to secure a valet like you!” His companion smiled complacently, but all of a sudden he remarked: “Make haste and go. I see Bourigeau in the distance, bringing the justice of the peace.” VII.