Florestan remained silent for a few minutes.
"It is no easy job," he muttered, "for the Count does not like unexpected visitors, and the Countess is with him just now. However, as I am not going to stay, I'll chance it."
"We must not be seen together," said he; "I'll settle the score; do you go on, and I will follow in five minutes. Remember we don't know each other."
"I am fly; and mind you look out a good place for me."鈥鈥
Mascarin paid the bill, and then looked into the /café/ to inform the doctor of his movements, and a few minutes later, Florestan in his most sonorous voice, threw open the door of his master's room and announced,--鈥鈥
Baptiste Mascarin had been in so many strange situations, from which he had extricated himself with safety and credit, that he had the fullest self-confidence, but as he ascended the wide staircase of the Hotel de Mussidan, he felt his heart beat quicker in anticipation of the struggle that was before him. It was twilight out of doors, but all within was a blaze of light. The library into which he was ushered was a vast apartment, furnished in severe taste. At the sound of the unaristocratic name of Mascarin, which seemed as much out of place as a drunkard's oath in the chamber of sleeping innocence, M. de Mussidan raised his head in sudden surprise. The Count was seated at the other end of the room, reading by the light of four candles placed in a magnificently wrought candelabra. He threw down his paper, and raising his glasses, gazed with astonishment at Mascarin, who, with his hat in his hand and his heart in his mouth, slowly crossed the room, muttering a few unintelligible apologies. He could make nothing, however, of his visitor, and said, "Whom do you wish to see, sir?"鈥鈥
"The Count de Mussidan," stuttered Mascarin; "and I hope that you will forgive this intrusion."鈥鈥
The Count cut his excuse short with a haughty wave of his hand. "Wait," said he imperiously. He then with evident pain rose from his seat, and crossing the room, rang the bell violently, and then reseated himself. Mascarin, who still remained in the centre of the room, inwardly wondered if after all he was to be turned out of the house. In another second the door opened, and the figure of the faithful Florestan appeared.鈥鈥