S»B__pgH 60 MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN. time, like a lawyer's clerk, appeared on the threshold of the pretended widow's apartment. " Well?" said he, inquiringly. Is it you, Jean? In truth, you frightened me." " Well, what do you say to it?" "Why, that I shall be admirably situated here for •eeing all that passes; unluckily, I shall not be able to hear everything." "Ah! faith you want too much. By-the-bye, I have another piece of news for you." " What is it?" " Wonderful!" " Pooh I" *' Incomparable!" . " What a bore the man is with his exclamations 1" " The philosopher-----" " Well, what of the philosopher?" " It is com monly said, 'The wise man is for all events prepared.'—Now! am a wise man, but I was not pre- pared for this." " I should like to know when you will finish. Perhaps this girl is in the way. In that case, Mademoiselle Sylvie, step into the next room." " Oh, there is n. occasion whatever. That charming girl is not in the way ; quite the contrary. Remain, Sylvie, remain." And the viscount chucked the hand- some waiting-maid's chin, whose brow began already to darken at the idea that something was about; to be said which she was not to hear. " Let her stay, then; but speak." "Why, I have done nothing else since I have been here." " And said nothing. So hold your tongue and let me watch: that will be more to the purpose." "Don't be out of temper! As I was saying then, I was passing the fountain-----" " Positively you never said a word about it." " Why. there you interrupt me again." "No."' " I was passing the fountain then, and bargaining for some old furniture for this frightful lodging, when all at once I felt a stream of water splashing ray stock- ings." "How very interesting all this isl" " Only wait: you are in too great a hurry, my dear. Well, I looked, and I saw—guess what—I will give you a hundred guesses—•" " Dog< on." " I saw a young gentleman obstructing the jet ofthe fountain with a piece of bread, and by means of this obstacle causing the water to diverge and to spurt upon me." " I can't tell you how much your story interests me," said Chon, shrugging her shoulders. " Only wait. I swore lustily on feeling myself splashed : the bread-soaker turned round, and I saw-----" "Whom?" "Who? Gilbert?" " Himself—bare-headed7his waitscoat open, stockings dangling about his heels, shoes unbuckled—in oomplet- undress, in short." " Gilbert!—And what did he say?" " 1 recognized hin at once, and he recognized me. I advanced, he retreated. I stretched out my arm; he stretched his legs; and off he scampered, like a grey- hound, among the carriages and the water-porters." " You lost sight of him, then?" " Pardieu, I believe so. You surely do not suppose that I would start off and run too?" "True: it was impossible, I admit. And so we have lost him." " Ahl what a pity I" ejaculated Mademoiselle Sylvie. "Oh! most certainly," said Jean, "I owe liim a sound thrashing; and if I had once laid hands upon him. he should have lost nothing for waiting, I promise you: but he guessed my kind intentions towards him,. and made good use of his legs." " No matter—here he is in Piris, that is the essential point: and, in Paris, if you are not on very bad terms with the lieutenant of police, you may find whatever you seek." " We must find him." " And when we have got him, we must keep him, too." "He must be shut up," said Mademoiselle Sylvie: *' only, this time, a safer place must be chosen for thé purpose." "And Sylvie will carry his bread and water to that safe place—will you not, Sylvie?" said the vis- count. " It is no subject for jesting, brother," said Chon; " that lad saw the affair of the post-horses, and if he had motives for bearing us a grudge, we might have reason to fear him." "And, therefore," replied Jean, "I made up my mind, while ascending your stairs, to call on M. de Sartines and inform him of my discovery. M. de Sartines will reply, that a man, bare-headed, his stock- ings about his heels, his shoes unbuckled, soaking his bread at a fountain, must live near the spot where he has been seen in such a plight, and he will then engage to find him for us." " What can he do here without money?" " Go errands." "He! A philosopher of that wild breed I I am sur- prised at you!" " He has perhaps found out a relation," said Sylvie —" some old devotee, who gives him the crusts that are too stale for her lap dog." "Enough, enough' Sylvie. Put the house-linen into that old chest; and come you, brother, to our observ- atory." Accordingly the pair approached the window with the greatest caution. Andrée had quitted her embroidery, and extended her limbs carelessly upon an arm-chair: then stretched out her hand to a book lying on another chair within her reach, opened it, and was soon ab- sorbed in what the spectators supposed must be a most interesting subject, for the young girl remained motion- less from the moment that' she commenced to read. "Oh! the studious creature!'' said Mademoiselle Chon; '' what can she be reading there?" " Virst indispensable article of furniture," replied the viscount, taking from his pocket an opera-glass which he drew out and pointed at Andrée, resting it upon the angle of the window for the purpose of steadying it. Chon watched his movements with impatience. ' "Well, let us see: is the creature really handsome?" flcrtcf^fl sho "Admirable! She is an exquisite girl: What arms! what hands! what eyes-lips too tempting for St. Anthony—feet, oh 1 divine feet; and the ankle—what mn ankle under that silk stocking!" "Oh! I should advise you to fall in love with her; that would complete the affair." said Chon, peevishly. "Well, after all, that would be no bad idea either, especially if she would grant me a little love in return ; that would somewhat cheer our poor countess." "Come hand me that glass, and a truce to your gabble, if that is possible. Yes, in truth, the girl is handsome, and it is impossible that she should not have a lover. She is not reading—look, the book is slipping out of her hand! There, it drops—stay—I told you, Jean, she was not reading—she is lost in thought." "Or asleep." " With her eyes open! Lovely eyes,'upon my word." "At any rate," said Jean, "if she has a lover, we shall have a good view of him here." "Yes, if-he comes in the daytime; but if he should come at night?" "The deuce! I did not think of that; and yet it is the first thing that I ought to have thought of: that proves how very simple I am. " " Yes; simple as a lawyer." " However, now that I am forewarned, I shall devise something." "What an excellent glass this is!" said Chon. "I can almost read the characters in the book." Chon had leaned forward out of the window, at- tracted by her curiosity ; but she pulled back her head faster than she had advanced it. " Well, what is the matter?" asked the viscount. Chon grasped his arm. " Look cautiously, brother," said she ; " look, what is that person w-ho is leaning out of yonder garret window on the left? Take care not to be seen." "Oh, ho!" cried Dubarry, in a low tone; "it is my crust-soaker, God forgive me!" " He is going to throw himself out!" " No; he has fast hold of the parapet." " But what is he looking at with those piercing eyes, with that wild eagerness?" "He is watching somebody." The viscount struck hisf< -ehead. "I have it!" he exclaimed. "Wbat?" " By heavens, he is watching the giril" "Mademoiselle de Taverney?" " Yes, yes; that's the inamorato of the dovecot. She comes to Paris—he hastens hither too: she takes lodgings in the Rue Coq-Heron—he sneaks away from us to go and live in the Rue Plastriere. He is looking at her, and she is musing." "Upon my word, it is true," said Chon. "Observe that look, how intently fixed. That lurid fire of his eyes. He is distractedly in love." "Sister," said Jean, "let us not give ourselves any further trouble to watch the lady: he will do our busi- ness." "Yes; for his own interest." "No: for ours. Now let me go and see that dear Sartines. Pardieu! we have a chance. But take care, Chon, not to let the philosopher see you: you know how quickly he decamps!" Chapter LXIII.—Plan op Campaign. M. de Sartines had returned home at three in the morning, extremely fatigued, but at the same time highly pleased, with the entertainment which he had got up on the spur of the moment for the king and Madame Dubarry. Rekindled by the arrival of the dauphiness, the popular enthusiasm had greeted his majesty with sundry shouts of " Live le Hoi !" greatly diminished in volume since that famous illness at Metz, during which all France had been seen in the churches or on pilgrimage, to obtain the restoration to health of the young Louis XV, called at that time the well-be- loved. On the other hand, Madame Dubarry, who scarcely ever failed to be insnlted in public by certain exclamations of a particular kind, had, contrary to her expectation, been graciously received by several rows of spectators judiciously placed in front; so that the pleased monarch had smiled ¦ graciously on M. de Sartines, and the lieutenant of police reckoned upon a handsome acknowledgment. In consequence, he thought that he might lie tiil noon, which he had not done for a very long time; and, on rising, he had taken advantage of this kind of holiday which he gave himself, to try on some dozen or two of new wigs, while listening to the reports of the night. At the sixth wig, and when about a third through the reports, the Viscount Jean Dubarry was announced. "Good!" thought M. de Sartines, "here comes my thanks. But who knows? women are so capricious. Show M. le Vicomte into the drawing-room." Jean, already fatigued with his forenoon's work, seated himself in an arm-chair, and the lieutenant of police, who speedily joined him, felt convinced that there would be nothing unpleasant in this interview. Jean appeared in fact in the highest spirits. The two gentlemen shook hands. " Well, Viscount," said M. de Sartmes, "what brings you so early?" " In the first place," replied Jean, who was accus- tomed above all things to flatter the self-love of those whose good offices he needed, " in the first place, I was anxious to congratulate you on the capital arrange- ments of your fete yesterday. "Ah! many thanks. Is it officially?" " Officially', as far as regards Luciennes." "That is all I want. Is it not there that the sun rises?" "Aye. and retires to rest occasionally." And Dubarry burst into a loud and rather vulgar laugh, but one which gave his physiognomy that good- natured look which it frequently required. "But," said he, " besides the compliments which I have to pay you, I have come to solicit a service also." " Two, if they are possible." " Not so fast. I hope to hear you say so, by-and-by. When a thing is lost in Paris, is there any hope of find- ing it again?" v' If it is either worth nothing, or worth a great deal, there is." " What I am seeking is of no great value," said Jean, shaking his head. "And what are you in search of?" "I am in search of a lad about eighteen years old." M. de Sartines extended his hand to a paper, took a a pencil, and wrote. " Eighteen years old ; what is your lad's name?" "Gilbert." " What does he do?" " As little as he can help. I suppose." " Where does he come from?" "From Lorraine." "With whom was he?" " In the service of the Taverney*1 *¦ " They brought him with them?" " No, my sister Chon picked him up on the high-road, perishing with hunger: she took him into her carriage and brought him to Luciennes, and there-----" "Well, and there?" " I am afraid the rogue has abused the hospitality he met with." " Has he stolen anything?" " I do not say that. But, in short, he absconded in a strange way." "And you would now like to get him back?" "Yes." " Have you any idea where he can be?" " I met him yesterday at the fountain which forms the corner of the Rue Plastriere, and have every rea- son to think that he lives in that street. In fact I be- lieve, if necessary, that I can point out the house. " " Well, but if you know the house, nothing is easier than to have him seized there. What do you wish t» do with him when you have caught him? Have him shut up at Charenton?—in the Bicetre?" " Not precisely that." "Oh! whatever you please, my dear fellow. Don't stand on ceremony." " No, on the contrary, this lad pleased my sister, and she would have liked to keep him about her, as he is intelligent. If one could get him back for her by fair means, it would be more desirable." "We must try. You have not made any inquiry in the Rue Plastriere to learn with whom he is!" "Oh, no ! You must understand that I did not wish to attract attention, for fear of losing the advantage I had obtained. He had already perceived me, and scampered off as if the devil was at his heels; and, if he had known that I was aware of his retreat, he would perhaps have decamped." "Very likely. Rue Plastriere, you say. At the end, the middle, or the beginning of the street?" "About one-third down." "Rest satisfied, I will send a clever fellow thither for you." "Ah, my dear Lieutenant, a man, let him be ever so clever, will always talk a little." "No, our people never talk." " The young one is cunning as a fox." "Ah 11 comprehend. Pardon me for not having seen your drift sooner, You wish me to go myself? In fact, you are right; it will be better ; for there are pfrhaps difficulties in the way which you are not aware of." Jean, though persuaded that the magistrate was de- sirous to assume a little consequence, was not disposed to diminish in the slightest degree .the i portance of his part. He even added—" It is precisely on account of these difficulties which you anticipate, that I am de- sirous to have your personal assistance." M. de Sartines rang for his valet de chambre. " Let the horses be put to," said he. " I have a carriage," said Jean. " Thank you, but I would rather have my own. Mine is without arms, and holds a middle place between a hackney-coach and a chariot. It is freshly painted every month, and for that reason is scarcely to be re- cognized again. In the meantime, while they are put- ting the horses to, permit me to try how my new wigs fit me." "Oh I by all means," said Jean. M. de Sartines summoned his wig-maker. He was an artist of the first water, and brought his client a perfect assortment of wigs, they were all forms, of all colors, of all dimensions, and of all denominations. M. de Sartines occasionally changed his dress three or four times a day for the purpose of his exploring visits, and he was most particular with regard to the regularity of his costume. While the magistrate was trying on his twenty-fourth wig, a servant came to tell him that the carriage was ready. " You will know the house again?" said M. de Sar- tines to Jean, wrhen they were in the carriage. " Certainly; I see it from this place." " Have you examined the entrance?" "That was the first thing I looked to." " And what sort of an entry is it?" " An alley." " Ah! an alley; one third down the street you say? "Yes, with a private door." "With a private door? The deuce I Doyouknowon what floor your runaway lives?" " In the attics. But you will see it directly; I per- ceive the fountain." "At a foot-pace, coachman," said M. de Sartines. The coachman moderated his speed; M. de Sartines drew up the glasses. "Stop," said Jean; "it is that dingy-looking house." "Ah, precisely," exclaimed M. de Sartines, clasping his hands; " that is just what I feared." "What! Are you afraid of something?" "Alasl yes." "And what are you afraid of?" " You are unlucky." " Explain yourself." " Why, that dingy house where your runaway lives is the very house of Monsieur Rousseau, of Seneva." " Rousseau, the author?" "Yes " " Well, and how does that concern you?" " How does that concern me? Ah ! it is plain enough that you are not lieutenant of police, and that you have nothing to do with philosophers." "Pooh, pooh ! Gilbert at Monsieur Rousseaus—what an improbable story!" " Have you not said that your youth is a philoso pher?" "Yes." " Well—' birds of a feather ' —you know." " And supposing that he should be at Monsieur Rous- seau's?" " Yes, let us suppose that." " What would be the consequence?" "That you would not have him." "Pardieu! Why not?" " Because Monsieur Rousseau is a man who is much to be dreaded." " Why not shut him up in the Bastile, then?" ' "I proposed it the other day to the king, but he dared not." "What! dared not?" " No, no; he wanted to leave the responsibility of his arrest to me; and by my faith, I was not bolder than theking." "Indeed!" " It is as I tell you. We have to look twice, I assure you, before we bring all those philosophers ahout our ears. Peste! Take a person away from Monsieur Rousseau? No, my dear friend, it will not do."