attention to it. In an instant Mascarin turned quickly round.

"Excuse me," said Paul; but the set smile had already resumed its place
upon Mascarin's countenance.

"You are," remarked he, civilly, "Paul Violaine, are you not?"

The young man bowed in assent.

"Forgive my absence for an instant. I will be back directly," said
Mascarin.

He passed through the door, and in another instant Paul heard his name
called.

Compared to the outer chamber, Mascarin's office was quite a luxurious
apartment, for the windows were bright, the paper on the walls fresh,
and the floor carpeted. But few of the visitors to the office could
boast of having been admitted into this sanctum; for generally business
was conducted at Beaumarchef's table in the outer room. Paul, however,
who was unacquainted with the prevailing rule, was not aware of the
distinction with which he had been received. Mascarin, on his visitor's
entrance, was comfortably seated in an armchair before the fire, with
his elbow on his desk--and what a spectacle did that desk present! It
was a perfect world in itself, and indicated that its proprietor was a
man of many trades. It was piled with books and documents, while a great
deal of the space was occupied by square pieces of cardboard, upon each
of which was a name in large letters, while underneath was writing in
very minute characters.