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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Monsieur Koupriane is right," replied Rouletabille, "and His Majesty should believe him, since it is the truth. But don't fear anything from me, Monsieur le Grand Marechal, for I shall not inconvenience Monsieur Koupriane any further, nor anybody else. I shall disappear." "I believe Koupriane is already directed to vise your passport." "He is very good, and he does himself much harm."
I confess I did not in the least understand what Rouletabille meant by what he had said; but the landlord, as soon as he heard the words, uttered an oath, which he at once stifled, and placed himself at our orders as obediently as Monsieur Robert Darzac had done, when he heard Rouletabille's prophetic sentence "The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness."
There was sufficient excuse for him after the outrageous drama of the other night. Rouletabille noticed further that the general never looked at his daughter, even when he spoke to her. There was too formidable a mystery lying between them for restraint not to increase day by day. Rouletabille involuntarily shook his head, saddened by all he saw.
When he found all that it was about he was inclined to be peremptory, but Rouletabille, who had seen "Michael Strogoff" played, cried, "Service of the Tsar!" which turned him submissive as a sheep. He made out the young man's bill and gave him his passport, which had been brought back by the police during the afternoon.
At one time he stooped so low as almost to touch the ground; at another he drew himself up and attentively examined the wall; then he looked into the palm of one of his hands, and walked away with rapid strides. Finally he set off running, still looking into the palm of his hand. Rouletabille had brought me to a standstill by a gesture. "Hush! Frederic Larsan is at work! Don't let us disturb him!"
"Yes, my boy," said Rouletabille, after placing his pipe on the table, and emptying his mug of cider, "I must see his face distinctly, so as to make sure to impress it on that part of my brain where I have drawn my circle of reasoning." The landlady re-appeared at that moment, bringing in the traditional bacon omelette.
I have already described the room in which we found ourselves, and I have given a glimpse of the charming blonde woman with the gentle eyes who now immediately began to prepare our breakfast. "How's Daddy Mathieu?" asked Rouletabille. "Not much better not much better; he is still confined to his bed." "His rheumatism still sticks to him, then?" "Yes.
Once she turned her head slightly toward Rouletabille. The reporter then looked towards her with increased eagerness, his eyes burning, as though he would say: "Surely, Natacha, you are not the accomplice of your father's assassins; surely it was not you who poured the poison!" But Natacha's glance passed the reporter coldly over.
Rouletabille let himself be led by Matrena through the night, but he stumbled and his awkward hands struck against various things. The ascent to the first floor was accomplished in profound silence. Nothing broke it except that restless moaning which had so affected the young man just before.
As to how we spent our time during the afternoon, all I need say is that Rouletabille led me to the grotto of Sainte-Genevieve, and, all the time, talked of every subject but the one in which we were most interested. Towards evening I was surprised to find Rouletabille making none of the preparations I had expected him to make.
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