"'That little baggage with whom I dined has cleared out and left him!
. . . Yes. Gave him the slip without any warning but a letter, in
which the spelling was all to seek.'

"'There, Daddy Croizeau, you see what comes of boring a woman--'

"'It is indeed a lesson, my pretty lady,' said the guileful Croizeau.
'Meanwhile, I have never seen a man in such a state. Our friend
Denisart cannot tell his left hand from his right; he will not go back
to look at the "scene of his happiness," as he calls it. He has so
thoroughly lost his wits, that he proposes that I should buy all
Hortense's furniture (Hortense was her name) for four thousand
francs.'

"'A pretty name,' said Antonia.

"'Yes. Napoleon's stepdaughter was called Hortense. I built carriages
for her, as you know.'

"'Very well, I will see,' said cunning Antonia; 'begin by sending
this young woman to me.'

"Antonia hurried off to see the furniture, and came back fascinated.
She brought Maxime under the spell of antiquarian enthusiasm. That
very evening the Count agreed to the sale of the reading-room. The
establishment, you see, nominally belonged to Mlle. Chocardelle.
Maxime burst out laughing at the idea of little Croizeau's finding him
a buyer. The firm of Maxime and Chocardelle was losing two thousand
francs, it is true, but what was the loss compared with four glorious
thousand-franc notes in hand? 'Four thousand francs of live coin!