“Is that where you are going to dine?” asked Maxime.

“Yes, with the director of the London opera-house, Emile Blondet, Finot, Lousteau, Felicien Vernon, Theodore Gaillard, Hector Merlin, and Bixiou, who was commissioned to invite me, as it seems they are in want of my experience and capacity for business!”

“Ah ca! then there’s some financial object in this dinner?”

“No; it merely concerns a theatrical venture,—­the engagement of a prima donna; and they want to submit the terms of the contract to my judgment.  You understand that the rest of the guests are invited to trumpet the affair as soon as the papers are signed.”

“Who is the object of all this preparation?”

“Oh! a star,—­destined, they say, to European success; an Italian, discovered by a Swedish nobleman, Comte Halphertius, through the medium of Madame de Saint-Esteve.  The illustrious manager of the London opera-house is negotiating this treaty in order that she shall make her first appearance at his theatre.”

“Well, adieu, my dear fellow; a pleasant dinner,” said Maxime, preparing to depart.  “If your star shines in London, it will probably appear in our firmament next winter.  As for me, I must go and attend to the sunrise in Arcis.  By the bye, where does Massol live?”

“Faith!  I couldn’t tell you that.  I never myself trust him with a case, for I will not employ barristers who dabble in politics.  But you can get his address from the ‘Gazette des Tribuneaux’; he is one of their reporters.”

Maxime went to the office of that newspaper; but, probably on account of creditors, the office servant had express orders not to give the barrister’s address, so that, in spite of his arrogant, imperious manner, Monsieur de Trailles obtained no information.  Happily, he bethought him that he frequently saw Massol at the Opera, and he resolved to seek him there that evening.  Before going to dinner, he went to the lodgings in the rue Montmartre, where he had installed the Romilly peasant-woman and her counsel, whom Madame Beauvisage had already sent to Paris.  He found them at dinner, making the most of the Beauvisage funds, and he gave them an order to come to his apartment the next day at half-past eleven without breakfasting.

In the evening he found Massol, as he expected, at the opera-house.  Going up to the lawyer with the slightly insolent manner which was natural to him, he said,—­

“Monsieur, I have an affair, half legal, half political, which I desire to talk over with you.  If it did not demand a certain amount of secrecy, I would go to your office, but I think we could talk with more safety in my own apartment; where, moreover, I shall be able to put you in communication with other persons concerned in the affair.  May I hope that to-morrow morning, at eleven o’clock, you will do me the favor to take a cup of tea with me?”

If Massol had had an office, he might possibly not have consented, for the sake of his legal dignity, to reverse the usual order of things; but as he perched rather than lodged in any particular place, he was glad of an arrangement which left his abode, if he had any, incognito.