s prying
curiosity. So our enterprising youth could only read and re-read the
superscription and smell the paper, which was strongly scented with
verbena. He fancied that there was some mysterious connection between
this letter intended for M. de Coralth's wife and the missive sent
to the baroness. And why should it not be so? Had they not both been
written under the influence of anger? Still he failed to perceive any
possible connection between the rich baroness and the poor tobacco
dealer, and his cogitations only made him more perplexed than ever.
However, his efforts to solve the mystery did not interfere with the
free use of his limbs, and he soon found himself on the Quai de la
Seine. "Here I am," he muttered. "I've come more quickly than an
omnibus."

The Quai de la Seine is a broad road, connecting the Rue de Flandres
with the canal de l'Ourcq. On the left-hand side it is bordered with
miserable shanties interspersed with some tiny shops, and several huge
coal depots. On the right-hand side--that next to the canal--there are
also a few provision stores. In the daytime there is no noisier nor
livelier place than this same Quai; but nothing could be more gloomy
at night-time when the shops are closed, when the few gas-lamps only
increase the grimness of the shadows, and when the only sound that
breaks the silence is the rippling of the water as its smooth surface is
ruffled by some boatman propelling his skiff through the canal.

"The Viscount must certainly have made a mistake," thought Chupin;
"there is no such shop on the Quai." He was wrong, however; for after
passing the Rue de Soissons he espied the red lantern of a tobacco-shop,
glimmering through the fog.

XI.

Having almost reached the goal, Chupin slackened his pace. He approached
the shop very cautiously and peered inside, deeming it prudent to
reconnoitre a little before he went in. And certainly there was nothing
to prevent a prolonged scrutiny. The night was very dark, the quay
deserted. No one was to be seen; not a sound broke the stillness. The
darkness, the surroundings, and the silence were sinister enough to make
even Chupin shudder, though he was usually as thoroughly at home in the
loneliest and most dangerous by-ways of Paris as an honest man of
the middle classes would be in the different apartments of his modest
household. "That scoundrel's wife must have less than a hundred thousand
a year if she takes up her abode here!" thou