n deign to turn his head. He opened the door, and
standing on the threshold, he bowed to M. de Coralth with an ironical
smile. "Until we meet again, Monsieur Paul," said he. "And kindly
remember me to Madame Paul, if you please."

If the others had been less astonished, they would have no doubt have
remarked the prodigious effect of this name upon their brilliant friend.
He became ghastly pale and fell back in his chair. Then, suddenly,
he bounded up as if he wished to attack his enemy. But pursuit seemed
likely to yield no result, for Chupin was already on the boulevard.

It was daybreak. Paris was waking up; the bakers were standing at their
doors, and boys in their shirt-sleeves, with their eyes swollen with
sleep, were taking down the shutters of the wine-shops. A cloud of dust,
raised by the street-sweepers, hung in the distance; the rag-pickers
wandered about, peering among the rubbish; the noisy milk-carts jolted
along at a gallop, and workmen were proceeding to their daily toil,
with hunches of bread in their hands. The morning air was very chilly;
nevertheless, Chupin seated himself on a bench across the boulevard, at
a spot where he could watch the entrance of the restaurant without
being seen. He had just experienced one of those sudden shocks which so
disturb the mind, that one becomes insensible to outward circumstances,
whatever they may be. He had recognized in the so-called Viscount de
Coralth, the man whom he had hated above all others in the world,
or, rather, the only man whom he hated, for his was not a bad heart.
Impressionable to excess like a true child of the faubourgs, he had the
Parisian's strange mobility of feeling. If his anger was kindled by
a trifle, the merest nothing usually sufficed to extinguish it. But
matters were different respecting this handsome viscount! "God! how I
hate him!" he hissed through his set teeth. "God! how I hate him!"

For once, years before, as he had confessed to M. Fortunat, Chupin had
been guilty of a cowardly and abominable act, which had nearly cost
a man his life. And this crime, if it had been successful, would have
benefited the very fellow who concealed his sinful, shameful past
under the high-sounding name of Coralth. How was it that Chupin had not
recognized him at once? Because he had worked for this fellow without
knowing him, receiving his orders through the miserable wretches who
pandered to his vices. He had only seen him personally once or twice,