“I am quite bewildered,” said Madame Popinot-Chandier to Monsieur Gravier.  “I am vainly trying to connect the Councillor of State, the Cardinal, the key, and the making-up——­”

“You have not the key to the jest,” said Monsieur Gravier.  “Well! no more have I, fair lady, if that can comfort you.”

“But here is another sheet,” said Bianchon, hunting on the table where the proofs had been laid.

“Capital!” said Lousteau, “and it is complete and uninjured.  It is signed IV.; J, Second Edition.  Ladies, the figure IV. means that this is part of the fourth volume.  The letter J, the tenth letter of the alphabet, shows that this is the tenth sheet.  And it is perfectly clear to me, that in spite of any publisher’s tricks, this romance in four duodecimo volumes, had a great success, since it came to a second edition.—­We will read on and find a clue to the mystery.

          OR ROMAN REVENGE 21

  corridor; but finding that he was
  pursued by the Duchess’ people

“Oh, get along!”

“But,” said Madame de la Baudraye, “some important events have taken place between your waste sheet and this page.”

“This complete sheet, madame, this precious made-up sheet.  But does the waste sheet in which the Duchess forgets her gloves in the arbor belong to the fourth volume?  Well, deuce take it—­to proceed.

Rinaldo saw no safer refuge than to make forthwith for the cellar where the treasures of the Bracciano fam- ily no doubt lay hid.  As light of foot as Camilla sung by the Latin poet, he flew to the entrance to the Baths of Vespasian.  The torchlight already flickered on the walls when Rinaldo, with the readiness be- stowed on him by nature, discovered the door concealed in the stone- work, and suddenly vanished.  A hideous thought then flashed on Rinaldo’s brain like lightning rend- ing a cloud:  He was imprisoned!  He felt the wall with uneasy haste

“Yes, this made-up sheet follows the waste sheet.  The last page of the damaged sheet was 212, and this is 217.  In fact, since Rinaldo, who in the earlier fragment stole the key of the Duchess’ treasure by exchanging it for another very much like it, is now—­on the made-up sheet—­in the palace of the Dukes of Bracciano, the story seems to me to be advancing to a conclusion of some kind.  I hope it is as clear to you as it is to me.—­I understand that the festivities are over, the lovers have returned to the Bracciano Palace; it is night—­one o’clock in the morning.  Rinaldo will have a good time.”

“And Adolphe too!” said President Boirouge, who was considered rather free in his speech.

“And the style!” said Bianchon.—­“Rinaldo, who saw no better refuge than to make for the cellar.”

“It is quite clear that neither Maradan, nor Treuttel and Wurtz, nor Doguereau, were the printers,” said Lousteau, “for they employed correctors who revised the proofs, a luxury in which our publishers might very well indulge, and the writers of the present day, would benefit greatly.  Some scrubby pamphlet printer on the Quay—­”