"The
carriage is gone."
"Did you see him go?"
"As plainly as I see you. He told his servant to drive to the
Embassy."
This audacious statement wrung a sigh of relief from the Baron; he
took Madame Olivier's hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you, my good Madame Olivier. But that is not all.--Monsieur
Crevel?"
"Monsieur Crevel? What can you mean, sir? I do not understand," said
Madame Olivier.
"Listen to me. He is Madame Marneffe's lover----"
"Impossible, Monsieur le Baron; impossible," said she, clasping her
hands.
"He is Madame Marneffe's lover," the Baron repeated very positively.
"How do they manage it? I don't know; but I mean to know, and you are
to find out. If you can put me on the tracks of this intrigue, your
son is a notary."
"Don't you fret yourself so, Monsieur le Baron," said Madame Olivier.
"Madame cares for you, and for no one but you; her maid knows that for
true, and we say, between her and me, that you are the luckiest man in
this world--for you know what madame is.--Just perfection!
"She gets up at ten every morning; then she breakfasts. Well and good.
After that she takes an hour or so to dress; that carries her on till
two; then she goes for a walk in the Tuileries in the sight of all
men, and she is always in by four to be ready for you.
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