But I'd like to know what a healthy man like
him wants to burn his back for, just to get rid of a tic douleureux
which troubles him once in two years. However, to come back to our
business. I have my neighbor's key; her lodging is just above mine,
and in it there's a room adjoining the one where Monsieur Ferragus is,
with only a partition between them. My neighbor is away in the country
for ten days. Therefore, if I make a hole to-night while Monsieur
Ferragus is sound asleep, you can see and hear them to-morrow at your
ease. I'm on good terms with a locksmith,--a very friendly man, who
talks like an angel, and he'll do the work for me and say nothing
about it."
"Then here's a hundred francs for him. Come to-night to Monsieur
Desmaret's office; he's a notary, and here's his address. At nine
o'clock the deed will be ready, but--silence!"
"Enough, monsieur; as you say--silence! Au revoir, monsieur."
Jules went home, almost calmed by the certainty that he should know
the truth on the morrow. As he entered the house, the porter gave him
the letter properly resealed.
"How do you feel now?" he said to his wife, in spite of the coldness
that separated them.
"Pretty well, Jules," she answered in a coaxing voice, "do come and
dine beside me."
"Very good," he said, giving her the letter. "Here is something
Fouguereau gave me for you."
Clemence, who was very pale, colored high when she saw the letter, and
that sudden redness was a fresh blow to her husband.
Pages:
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135