will wait till Alfred
comes."

"But, then, suppose any one wants me whilst I am out, who will mind the
lodge?"

"Oh, I'll take care of the lodge."

The old woman departed on her agreeable errand.

At the termination of a few minutes the postman tapped at the lodge
window, and putting his hand into the apartment, presented two letters,
merely saying, "Three sous."

"Six sous, you mean, for two letters," replied Rodolph.

"One is free," answered the man.

Having paid and dismissed the postman, Rodolph mechanically examined the
two letters thus committed to his charge; but at a further glance they
seemed to him worthy a more attentive observation. The epistle addressed
to Madame Pipelet exhaled through its hot-pressed envelope a strong
odour of Russia leather; it bore, on a seal of red wax, the initials "C.
R." surmounted by a helmet, and supported by a cross of the Legion of
Honour. The direction was written in a firm, bold hand. The heraldic
device of the commingled casque and cross made Rodolph smile, and
confirmed him in the idea that the writer of the letter in question was
not a female. Who was this scented, emblazoned correspondent of old
Anastasia Pipelet? Rodolph felt an undefinable curiosity to know. The
other epistle, written upon coarse and common paper, was united only by
a common wafer, pricked over with the point of a pin, and was addressed
to "M. Cesar Bradamanti, Operating Dentist." Evidently disguised, the
superscription was entirely composed of capital letters. Whether founded
on a true or false presage, this letter seemed to Rodolph to wear a
mournful look, as though evil or misery were contained within its shabby
folds. He perceived that some of the letters in the direction were
fainter than the others, and that the paper there seemed a little
rumpled: a tear had evidently fallen upon it.

Madame Pipelet returned, bearing the bottle of cassia and two glasses.

"I have dawdled,--have I not, monsieur?" said she, gaily. "But let you
once get into that good Pere Joseph's shop, and it is hard work to get
out again. Oh, that old man is a very insinuating----"

"Here, madame," interrupted Rodolph, "here are two letters the postman
left while you were gone."

"Dear me! Two letters! Pray excuse me, monsieur. I suppose you paid for
them?"

"I did."

"You are very good. I tell you what, then, we will settle that out of
the first money you have to pay me; how much was it?"

"Three sous," answer