der I have to remind you of it. Now, aunt, what I have
to say to you is confidential."

Thus dismissed, two of the Fates departed.

Since the days when Jacques Collin had abdicated his former kingship
and had made himself, as they say, a new skin in the police force,
Jacqueline Collin, though she had never put herself within reach of
the law, had certainly never donned the robe of innocence. But having
attained, like her nephew, to what might fairly be called opulence, she
kept at a safe and respectful distance from the Penal Code, and under
cover of an agency that was fairly avowable, she sheltered practices
more or less shady, on which she continued to bestow an intelligence and
an activity that were really infernal.

"Aunt," said Vautrin, "I have so many things to say to you that I don't
know where to begin."

"I should think so! It is a week since I've seen you."

"In the first place, I must tell you that I have just missed a splendid
chance."

"What sort of chance?" asked Jacqueline.

"In the line of my odious calling. But this time the capture was worth
making. Do you remember that little Prussian engraver about whom I sent
you to Berlin?"

"The one who forged those Vienna bank bills in that wonderful way?"

"Yes. I just missed arresting him near Saint-Sulpice. But I followed him
into the church, where I heard your Signora Luigia."

"Ah!" said Jacqueline, "she has made up her mind at last, and has left
that imbecile of a sculptor."

"It is about her that I have come to talk to you," said Vautrin.
"Here are the facts. The Italian opera season in London has begun
badly,--their prima donna is taken ill. Sir Francis Drake, the
impresario, arrived in Paris yesterday, at the Hotel des Princes, rue
de Richelieu, in search of a prima donna, at any rate _pro tem_. I have
been to see him in the interests of the signora. Sir Francis Drake is
an Englishman, very bald, with a red nose, and long yellow teeth. He
received me with cold politeness, and asked in very good French what my
business was."

"Did you propose to him Luigia?"

"That was what I went for,--in the character, be it understood, of
a Swedish nobleman. He asked if her talent was known. 'Absolutely
unknown,' I replied. 'It is risky,' said Sir Francis; 'nevertheless
arrange to let me hear her.' I told him that she was staying with her
friend Madame de Saint-Esteve, at whose house I could take the liberty
to invite him to dinner."

"When?" asked J