t the thought of losing his bank-note in
this way. "Ah! I don't fancy that idea!" he exclaimed. "Leave it here?
Never in life! Who'd get the reward? A viscount is always generous;
it is quite likely he would give me twenty francs as a reward for my
honesty. And that's why I want his address."

The argument was of a nature to touch the waiters; they thought the
young man quite right; but they did not know M. de Coralth's address,
and they saw no way of procuring it. "Unless perhaps the porter knows,"
observed one of them.

The porter, on being called, remembered that he had once been sent to
M. de Coralth's house for an overcoat. "I've forgotten his number," he
declared; "but he lives in the Rue d'Anjou, near the corner of the Rue
de la Ville l'Eveque."

This direction was not remarkable for its precision, but it was more
than sufficient for a pure-blooded Parisian like Victor Chupin. "Many
thanks for your kindness," he said to the porter. "A blind man, perhaps,
might not be able to go straight to M. de Coralth's house from your
directions, but I have eyes and a tongue as well. And, believe me, if
there's any reward, you shall see that I know how to repay a good turn."

"And if you don't find the viscount," added the waiters, "bring the
money here, and it will be returned to him."

"Naturally!" replied Chupin. And he strode hurriedly away. "Return!"
he muttered; "not I! I thought for a moment they had their hands on my
precious bank-note."

But he had already recovered from his fright, and as he turned his steps
homeward he congratulated himself on the success of his stratagem.
"For my viscount is caught," he said to himself. "The Rue d'Anjou Saint
Honore hasn't a hundred numbers in it, and even if I'm compelled to go
from door to door, my task will soon be accomplished."

On reaching home he found his mother engaged in knitting, as usual. This
was the only avocation that her almost complete blindness allowed her
to pursue; and she followed it constantly. "Ah! here you are, Toto,"
she exclaimed, joyously. "I didn't expect you so soon. Don't you scent a
savory smell? As you must be greatly tired after being up all night, I'm
making you a stew."

As customary when he returned, Chupin embraced the good woman with
the respectful tenderness which had so surprised M. Fortunat. "You are
always kind," said he, "but, unfortunately, I can't remain to dine with
you."

"But you promised me."

"That's true, mamma; but bu