absence.

"You will find the colonel in Paris," said the notary. "In the shipping
news quoted this morning in the Journal of Commerce, I found under
the head of Marseilles--here, see for yourself," he said, offering the
paper. "'The Bettina Mignon, Captain Mignon, arrived October 6'; it is
now the 17th, and the colonel is sure to be in Paris."

Dumay requested Gobenheim to do without him in future, and then went
back to the Chalet, which he reached just as Modeste was sealing her two
letters, to her father and Canalis. Except for the address the letters
were precisely alike both in weight and appearance. Modeste thought she
had laid that to her father over that to her Melchior, but had, in fact,
done exactly the reverse. This mistake, so often made in the little
things of life, occasioned the discovery of her secret by Dumay and her
mother. The former was talking vehemently to Madame Mignon in the salon,
and revealing to her his fresh fears caused by Modeste's duplicity and
Butscha's connivance.

"Madame," he cried, "he is a serpent whom we have warmed in our bosoms;
there's no place in his contorted little body for a soul!"

Modeste put the letter for her father into the pocket of her apron,
supposing it to be that for Canalis, and came downstairs with the letter
for her lover in her hand, to see Dumay before he started for Paris.

"What has happened to my Black Dwarf? why are you talking so loud!" she
said, appearing at the door.

"Mademoiselle, Butscha has gone to Paris, and you, no doubt, know
why,--to carry on that affair of the little architect with the sulphur
waistcoat, who, unluckily for the hunchback's lies, has never been
here."

Modeste was struck dumb; feeling sure that the dwarf had departed on
a mission of inquiry as to her poet's morals, she turned pale, and sat
down.

"I'm going after him; I shall find him," continued Dumay. "Is that the
letter for your father, mademoiselle?" he added, holding out his hand.
"I will take it to the Mongenods. God grant the colonel and I may not
pass each other on the road."

Modeste gave him the letter. Dumay looked mechanically at the address.

"'Monsieur le Baron de Canalis, rue de Paradis-Poissoniere, No. 29'!" he
cried out; "what does that mean?"

"Ah, my daughter! that is the man you love," exclaimed Madame Mignon;
"the stanzas you set to music were his--"

"And that's his portrait that you have in a frame upstairs," added
Dumay.

"Give me back that