About two months after the scene in which la Peyrade had been convinced that through a crime of his past life his future was irrevocably settled, he (being now married to his victim, who was beginning to have lucid intervals, though the full return of her reason would not take place until the occasion indicated by the doctors) was sitting one morning with the head of the police in the latter’s office.  Taking part in the work of the department, the young man was serving an apprenticeship under that great master in the difficult and delicate functions to which he was henceforth riveted.  But Corentin found that his pupil did not bring to this initiation all the ardor and amiability that he desired.  It was plain that in la Peyrade’s soul there was a sense of forfeiture and degradation; time would get the better of that impression, but the callus was not yet formed.

Opening a number of sealed envelopes enclosing the reports of his various agents, Corentin glanced over these documents, seldom as useful as the public suppose, casting them one after another contemptuously into a basket, whence they issued in a mass for a burning.  But to one of them the great man evidently gave some particular attention; as he read it a smile flickered on his lips, and when he had finished, instead of adding it to the pile in the basket, he gave it to la Peyrade.

“Here,” he said, “here’s something that concerns you; it shows that in our profession, which just now seems to you unpleasantly serious, we do occasionally meet with comedies.  Read it aloud; it will cheer me up.”

Before la Peyrade began to read, Corentin added:—­

“I ought to tell you that the report is from a man called Henri, whom Madame Komorn introduced as man-servant at the Thuilliers’; you probably remember him.”

“So!” said la Peyrade, “servants placed in families! is that one of your methods?”

“Sometimes,” replied Corentin; “in order to know all, we must use all means.  But a great many lies are told about us on that subject.  It is not true that the police, making a system of it, has, at certain periods, by a general enrolment of lacqueys and lady’s-maids, established a vast network in private families.  Nothing is fixed and absolute in our manner of proceeding; we act in accordance with the time and circumstances.  I wanted an ear and an influence in the Thuillier household; accordingly, I let loose the Godollo upon it, and she, in turn, partly to assist herself, installed there one of our men, an intelligent fellow, as you will see for yourself.  But for all that, if, at another time, a servant came and offered to sell me the secrets of his master, I should have him arrested, and let a warning reach the ears of the family to distrust the other servants.  Now go on, and read that report.”

  Monsieur the Director of the Secret Police,

read la Peyrade aloud,—­