“And how can you make her repent for it?” asked the artist, whose curiosity, left ungratified by Mademoiselle Reine, was growing more and more excited, “what can you have in common with Madame la Baronne?”

“Because she is a lady and I am a workman, you mean?  All the same, if I could only whisper two or three words in her ear, she would give me more gold than I have earned since I worked at the chateau, I am sure of it.”

“By the powers! if I were in your place, I would say those words to her this very day.”

“So as to be thrown out by that band of idle fellows in their red coats.  None of that for me.  I have my own scheme; let them laugh that win!”

As he repeated this proverb, the workman uttered his usual sardonic laugh.

“Lambernier,” said the artist, in a serious tone, “I have heard of certain very strange speeches that you have made within the last few days.  Do you know that there is a punishment by law for those who invent calumnies?”

“Is it a calumny, when one can prove what he says?” replied the carpenter, with assurance.

“What is it that you undertake to prove?” exclaimed Marillac, suddenly.

“Eh! you know very well that if Monsieur le Baron—­” he did not continue, but with a coarse gesture he finished explaining his thoughts.

“You can prove this?”

“Before the courts, if necessary.”

“Before the courts would not amount to very much for you; but if you will cease this talk and never open your mouth about all this, whatever it may be, and will give to me, and me only, this proof of which you speak, I will give you ten napoleons.”

For a moment Lambernier gazed at the artist with a singularly penetrating glance.

“So you have two sweethearts, then—­one from the city and one from the country, a married woman and this poor girl,” said he, in a jeering tone; “does little Reine know that she is playing second fiddle?”

“What do you mean to insinuate?”

“Oh! you are more clever than!”

The two men looked at each other in silence, trying to read each other’s thoughts.

“This is a lover of Madame de Bergenheim,” thought Lambernier, with the barefaced impudence of his kind; “if I were to tell him what I know, my vengeance would be in good hands, without my taking the trouble to commit myself.”

“Here is a sneaking fellow who pretends to be deucedly strong in diplomacy,” said Marillac to himself; “but he is revengeful and I must make him explain himself.”

“Ten napoleons are not to be found every day,” continued the carpenter, after a moment’s silence; “you may give them to me, if you like, in a week.”

“You will be able to prove to me, then, what you have said,” replied Marillac, with hesitation, blushing in spite of himself at the part he was playing at that moment, upon the odious side of which he had not looked until now.  “Bah!” said he to himself, in order to quiet his conscience, “if this rascal really knows anything it is much better that I should buy the secret than anybody else.  I never should take advantage of it, and I might be able to render the lady a service.  Is it not a gentleman’s sworn duty to devote himself to the defence of an imprudent beauty who is in danger?”