Chupin was
scarcely able to recognize Florent when he at last emerged from the
house. It is true that he looked altogether unlike the servant in
the red waist-coat. As he had the key to the wardrobe containing
his master's clothes, he did not hesitate to use them whenever an
opportunity offered. On this occasion he had appropriated a pair of
those delicately tinted trousers which were M. de Coralth's specialty,
with a handsome overcoat, a trifle too small for him, and a very elegant
hat.

"Fine doings, indeed!" growled Chupin as he started in pursuit. "My
servants sha'n't serve me in that way if I ever have any."

But he paused in his soliloquy, and prudently hid himself under a
neighboring gateway. The gorgeous Florent was ringing at the door of one
of the most magnificent mansions in the Rue de la Ville l'Eveque. The
door was opened, and he went in. "Ah! ah!" thought Chupin, "he hadn't
far to go. The viscount and the baroness are shrewd. When you have
flowers to send to anybody it's convenient to be neighbors!"

He glanced round, and seeing an old man smoking his pipe on the
threshold of a shop, he approached him and asked politely "Can you tell
me whom that big house belongs to?"

"To Baron Trigault," replied the man, without releasing his hold on his
pipe.

"Thank you, monsieur," replied Chupin, gravely. "I inquired, because
I think of buying a house." And repeating the name of Trigault several
times to impress it upon his memory he darted off on his errand.

It might be supposed that his unexpected success had delighted him,
but, on the contrary, it rendered him even more exacting. The letter
he carried burned his pocket like a red-hot iron. "Madame Paul," he
muttered, "that must be the rascal's wife. First, Paul is his Christian
name; secondly, I've been told that his wife keeps a tobacco shop--so
the case is plain. But the strangest thing about it is that this husband
and wife should write to each other, when I fancied them at dagger's
ends." Chupin would have given a pint of his own blood to know the
contents of the missive. The idea of opening it occurred to him, and it
must be confessed that it was not a feeling of delicacy that prevented
him. He was deterred by a large seal which had been carefully affixed,
and which would plainly furnish evidence if the letter were tampered
with. Thus Chupin was punished for Florent's faults, for this seal
was the viscount's' invariable precaution against his servant'