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"I don't care about the place," replied Florestan, "and I am going to ask Beaumarchef to look out another one for me." "I am surprised at that; all your predecessors said that the Count was a perfect gentleman " "Just try him yourself," broke in the valet. "In the first place he is as fickle as the wind, and awfully suspicious. He never leaves anything about, no letters, no cigars, and no money.
She seasoned her conversation with pinches of snuff, and spoke with a strong Alsatian brogue. "Now, look here," said Beaumarchef; "do you really mean to say that you want a place?" "I do that." "You said that six months ago. We got you a splendid one, and three days afterward you chucked up the whole concern."
"Ah," remarked Hortebise, "then Tantaine was right in his description of her." "Of course he was," answered Mascarin with a slight frown, "and this proves the justice of the objection you made a little time back. A girl possessed of such dazzling beauty may even influence the fool who has carried her off to become dangerous." Beaumarchef touched his master's arm kindly.
She has just come in to pay us eleven francs that she owed us, and is waiting outside. Is not this lucky?" Mascarin made a little grimace. "You are an idiot, Beaumarchef," said he, "to be pleased at so trivial a matter. I have often told you that there is no such thing as luck or chance, and that all comes to those who work methodically."
Sit down and go on." Enchanted at this mark of condescension, Beaumarchef went on. "Yesterday there was nothing of importance, but this morning Toto Chupin came." "He had not lost Caroline Schimmel, I trust?" "No, sir; he had even got into conversation with her." "That is good. He is a cunning little devil; a pity that he is not a trifle more honest."
Finding this to be the case, Mascarin handed them all over to Beaumarchef, and only occasionally nodded to the serviteur of some great family, who chanced to stroll in.
"No, no," he continued; "I am getting too full of suspicions;" and with these words he endeavored to put aside the vague terrors which were creeping into his soul. Suddenly Beaumarchef, evidently much excited, appeared upon the threshold. "What, you here again!" cried Mascarin, angrily; "am I to have no peace to-day?" "Sir, the young man is here." "What young man? Paul Violaine?" "Yes, sir."
Beaumarchef was an old soldier and a bold man, but he was easily upset, for the lad's insolence made him believe that he was uttering words that had been put in his mouth by some wily adviser; and not knowing how to act, the ex-soldier thought it best to adopt a more conciliating demeanor. "How much do you want?" asked he. "Well, seven francs to start with." "The deuce you do!
"Now, you unbeliever," cried Mascarin gaily, "is not fortune within our grasp? Tantaine and Mascarin are dead, or rather, they never existed. Beaumarchef is on his way to America, La Candele will be in London in a week, and now we may enjoy our millions." "Heaven grant it," said the doctor piously.
"Yes, sir; he said he would follow her like her shadow, and will bring in a report every day." "I am very pleased with you, Beaumarchef," said Mascarin, rubbing his hands joyously. Beaumarchef seemed highly flattered, but continued, "This is not all." "What else is there to tell?"
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