"_Ah, ca_" After fumbling a little more, he took sister H.'s bag,
gave a dive here, a poke there, and a kind of promiscuous rake with
his five fingers, and turned to the trunk. There he seemed somewhat
dubious. Eying the fine silk and lace dresses, - first one, then the
other, - "Ah, ah!" said he, and snuffed a little. Then he peeped under
this corner, and cocked his eye under that corner; then, all at once,
plunged his arm down at one end of the trunk, and brought up a little
square box. "What's that?" said he. He unrolled and was about to open
it, when suddenly he seemed to be seized with an emotion of
confidence. "_Non, non_" said he, frankly, and rolled it up,
shoved it back, stuffed the things down, smoothed all over, signed my
ticket, and passed on. We locked up, gave the baggage to porters, and
called a fiacre. As we left the station two ladies met us.
"Is there any one here expecting to see Mrs. C.?" said one of them.
"Yes, madam," said I; "_we_ do."
"God bless you," said she, fervently, and seized me by the hand. It
was Mrs. C. and her sister. I gave He into their possession.
Our troubles were over. We were at home. We rode through streets whose
names were familiar, crossed the Carrousel, passed the Seine, and
stopped before an ancient mansion in the Hue de Verneuil, belonging to
M. le Marquis de Brige.
