“Surely you don’t mean that she has gone to quod?” said he.

“It is as I tell you,” answered she; “but come in, and have a glass of wine, while you hear all about it.”

She led the old man into the dining-room, round the table in which a half dozen guests were seated, just concluding a late breakfast.  Tantaine at once recognized four of the several guests as servants whom he knew from their having applied for situations at the office, and there were two men of a very unprepossessing exterior.

“We are having a regular spree to-day,” observed the cook, handing a bottle to Tantaine; “but yesterday there was not much of a jollification here, for just as I was setting about getting the dinner two fellows came in and asked for my mistress, and as soon as they saw her they clapped their hands on her and said that she must come to the stone jug.  When madame heard this she shrieked so loud as to have been heard in the next street.  She would not go a foot with them, clung to the furniture and banisters, so they just took her up by the head and feet, and carried her down to a cab that was standing at the door.  I seem to bring ill luck wherever I go, for this is the fourth mistress I have seen taken off in this way; but come, you are taking nothing at all.”

But Tantaine had had enough, and making an excuse, retired from a debauch which he saw would continue as long as the wine held out.

“All is going well,” muttered he, as he climbed into the cab; “and now for the next one.”

He drove straight to the house that the elder Gandelu was building in the Champs Elysees, and putting his head out of the window, he accosted a light, active young fellow who was warning the foot passengers not to pass under the scaffolding.

“Anything new, La Cordille?” enquired the old man.

“No, nothing; but tell the master I am keeping a good watch.”

From there Tantaine visited a footman in De Breulh’s employment, and a woman in the service of Madame de Bois Arden.  Then, paying his fare, he started on foot for Father Canon’s wine shop, in the Rue St. Honore, where he met Florestan, who was as saucy and supercilious to Tantaine as he was obsequious to Mascarin.  But although he paid for Florestan’s dinner, all that he could extort from him was, that Sabine was terribly depressed.  It was fully eight o’clock before Tantaine had got rid of Florestan, and hailing another cab, he ordered the driver to take him to the Grand Turk, in the Rue des Poissonniers.

The magnificent sign of the Grand Turk dances in the breeze, and invites such youths as Toto Chupin and his companions.  The whole aspect of the exterior seemed to invite the passers-by to step in and try the good cheer provided within,—­a good table d’hote at six p.m., coffee, tea, liquors, and a grand ball to complete the work of digestion.  A long corridor leads to this earthly Eden, and the two doors at the end of it open, the one into the