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Updated: May 28, 2025
I had fallen back behind the sumpter horses, and halted for a moment, when I felt a hand rest lightly on my stirrup. I looked down, and, as I live, it was La Marmotte. "You!" I exclaimed. "In Paris!" "Monsieur," she said hurriedly, her face pale and haggard, "this meeting is not chance. Ask for me tomorrow at vespers at the shop of Barou the armourer in the Rue Tire Boudin.
"And you are not leaving Paris, then?" she asked after a moment's pause. "I cannot now," I answered. "Then," she laughed, "the furrier's niece and Monsieur Broussel will meet again. Au revoir, Chevalier!" And she was gone. The next day, about the time appointed by La Marmotte, I presented myself at Maître Barou, the armourer's, store.
I thought so. I know them all, monsieur. First there is Messire Blaise de Lorgnac, the lieutenant " "Maître Barou, it will take till to-morrow to go over the names. What is your price?" "Ho! ho! messire, you grow impatient. 'Tis Aranguez plate this, as you may see the best work of Spain, down to the buckles.
"In that case, let me see the corselet." "Here it is, monsieur." I tried it on, and finding it would suit, and that the workmanship was of rare excellency, demanded the price. Barou hummed as he tapped the shining steel with his finger and glanced at me from under his bushy brows. "Monsieur must have but lately joined the guards?" he asked, ignoring my question. "A matter of a few hours." "Ah!
Ho! ho! messire, only two good things ever came from Spain: one is good armour, and the other pretty women " "And I presume, Maître Barou, they are both expensive things; but the price of your corselet, for my time is short." "Fifty pistoles, then." "'Tis a long sum, and I am not sure of the proof." Maître Barou looked at me reproachfully.
Seizing a poniard he glanced at the blade for a moment, touched the point with the tip of his finger, and then raising the weapon brought it down with his full force on the corselet. The dagger glanced off from the mirror-like surface and buried itself deep in the hard wood of the counter. "There, monsieur!" And Barou looked at me triumphantly.
It was a shrewd enough test, and I closed the bargain, paying him his money then and there, and bidding him send the mail to De Lorgnac's house. "And the name, monsieur?" "The Chevalier d'Orrain." As Barou was making an entry on a slate I heard a step behind me, and turning saw it was La Marmotte.
She made no sign of recognition, however, but went straight up to Barou, to whom she handed a small package, giving him some instructions in a low tone. Taking the hint I gave a casual glance or so at the things around me, and then strolled out of the shop.
"Bien!" he said when I inquired for one, "I have one that will fit you, I think. It was bespoke by M. de Montorgueil " "But, perhaps, monsieur may have a voice in the matter." "Probably; but as monsieur has not paid for it, and is at present lodged in the Châtelet on account of his escapade with Mademoiselle d'Estanay, we may let that objection pass." And Maître Barou chuckled.
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