The hornplayers had now resumed their lessons, and Florestan was
compelled to place both hands to the side of his mouth, in order to
render himself audible, and to shout with all his might.

"That old fellow there is a huntsman in the service of the Duke de
Champdoce, and is the finest hornplayer going. I have only had twenty
lessons from him, and am getting on wonderfully."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mascarin, "when I have more time I must hear your
performance; but to-day I am in a hurry, and want to say a few words to
you in private."

"Certainly, but suppose we go upstairs and ask for a private room."

The rooms he referred to were not very luxuriously furnished, but were
admirably suited for confidential communications; and had the walls been
able to speak, they could have told many a strange tale.

Florestan and Mascarin seated themselves in one of these before a small
table, upon which Father Canon placed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"I asked you to meet me here, Florestan," began Mascarin, "because you
can do me a little favor."

"Anything that is in my power I will do," said the young man.

"First, a few words regarding yourself. How do you get on with Count de
Mussidan?"