I ask your
assistance in a good work. I have just seen that little Judici, who is
living with an old man, and I mean to see them regularly and legally
married."

"Ah! old Vyder; he is a very worthy old fellow, with plenty of good
sense. The poor old man has already made friends in the neighborhood,
though he has been here but two months. He keeps my accounts for me. He
is, I believe, a brave Colonel who served the Emperor well. And how he
adores Napoleon!--He has some orders, but he never wears them. He is
waiting till he is straight again, for he is in debt, poor old boy! In
fact, I believe he is hiding, threatened by the law--"

"Tell him that I will pay his debts if he will marry the child."

"Oh, that will soon be settled.--Suppose you were to see him, madame; it
is not two steps away, in the Passage du Soleil."

So the lady and the stove-fitter went out.

"This way, madame," said the man, turning down the Rue de la Pepiniere.

The alley runs, in fact, from the bottom of this street through to the
Rue du Rocher. Halfway down this passage, recently opened through, where
the shops let at a very low rent, the Baroness saw on a window, screened
up to a height with a green, gauze curtain, which excluded the prying
eyes of the passer-by, the words:

"ECRIVAIN PUBLIC"; and on the door the announcement:

BUSINESS TRANSACTED.

_Petitions Drawn Up, Accounts Audited, Etc._

_With Secrecy and Dispatch._

The shop was like one of those little offices where travelers by omnibus
wait the vehicles to take them on to their destination. A private
staircase led up, no doubt, to the living-rooms on the entresol which
were let with the shop. Madame Hulot saw a dirty writing-table of some
light wood, some letter-boxes, and a wretched second-hand chair. A
cap with a peak and a greasy green shade for the eyes suggested either
precautions for disguise, or weak eyes, which was not unlikely in an old
man.

"He is upstairs," said the stove-fitter. "I will go up and tell him to
come down."

Adeline lowered her veil and took a seat. A heavy step made the narrow
stairs creak, and Adeline could not restrain a piercing cry when she
saw her husband, Baron Hulot, in a gray knitted jersey, old gray flannel
trousers, and slippers.

"What is your business, madame?" said Hulot, with a flourish.

She rose, seized Hulot by the arm, and said in a voice hoarse with
emotion: