rifle? I do not think so.
Indeed, I have an idea that you will send me a hundred and fifty louis
over and above, so that I may not be left without a coin in my pocket.
How goes the great affair? I await your decision on the brink of a
precipice.

"Yours devotedly,

"HENRY DE CROISENOIS."

"And so," growled Mascarin, "he has flung away five thousand francs,
and asks me to find it for him in my coffers. Ah, you fool, if I did not
want the grand name that you have inherited from your ancestors, a
name that you daily bespatter and soil, you might whistle for your five
thousand francs."

However, as Croisenois was absolutely necessary to him, Mascarin slowly
took from his safe five notes of a thousand francs each, and handed them
to the man.

"Do you want a receipt?" asked the man.

"No; this letter is sufficient, but wait a bit;" and Mascarin, with
an eye to the future, drew a twenty franc piece from his pocket, and
placing it on the table, said in his most honeyed accents,--

"There, my friend, is something for yourself."

"No, sir," returned the man; "I always ask wages enough to prevent the
necessity of accepting presents." And with this dignified reply he bowed
with the stiff air of a Quaker, and walked rigidly out of the room.

The agent was absolutely thunderstruck. In all his thirty years'
experience he had never come across anything like this.

"I can hardly believe my senses," muttered he; "where on earth did
the Marquis pick this fellow up? Can it be that he is sharper than I
fancied?"

Suddenly a new and terrifying idea flashed across his mind. "Can it be,"
said he, "that the fellow is not a real servant, after all? I have
so many enemies that one day they may strive to crush me, and however
skilfully I may play my cards, some one may hold a better hand." This
idea alarmed him greatly, for he was in a position in which he had
nothing to fear; for when a great work is approaching completion, the
anxiety of the promoter becomes stronger and stronger. "No, no," he
continued; "I am getting too full of suspicions;" and with these words
he endeavored to put aside the vague terrors which were creeping into
his soul.

Suddenly Beaumarchef, evidently much excited, appeared upon the
threshold.

"What, you here again!" cried Mascarin, angrily; "am I to have no peace
to-day?"

"Sir, the young man is here."

"What young man? Paul Violaine?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why, I told him not to come until twelve; so