say, very reprehensible will say others, if they admit that
Cropole was a physiognomist and judged people at first
sight.

This apartment was that which composed the whole front of
the ancient triangular house, a large salon, lighted by two
windows on the first stage, a small chamber by the side of
it, and another above it.

Now, from the time he had arrived, this gentleman had
scarcely touched any repast that had been served up to him
in his chamber. He had spoken but two words to the host, to
warn him that a traveler of the name of Parry would arrive,
and to desire that, when he did, he should be shown up to
him immediately.

He afterwards preserved so profound a silence, that Cropole
was almost offended, so much did he prefer people who were
good company.

This gentleman had risen early the morning of the day on
which this history begins, and had placed himself at the
window of his salon, seated upon the ledge, and leaning upon
the rail of the balcony, gazing sadly but persistently on
both sides of the street, watching, no doubt, for the
arrival of the traveler he had mentioned to the host.

In this way he had seen the little cortege of Monsieur
return from hunting, then had again partaken of the profound
tranquillity of the street, absorbed in his own