I
found courage to rise, I stood listening with a beating heart, expecting
a footfall on the stairs or that something--I knew not what--would rush
on me from the closed doors of this mysterious house. But the silence
endured. The sparrows outside twittered, the cricket renewed its chirp,
and at length, drawing courage from the sunlight, I moved forward and
lifted the dog's coat from the floor. I examined it: it was the one I
had seen in the possession of the man in the shed. Five minutes later I
was in the streets on my way to the Bishop's hotel, the parcel of velvet
tucked under my girdle.

I have since thought that I did not fully appreciate at the moment the
marvel that had happened to me. But by this time in truth I was nearly
light-headed. I went my way as a man moves in a dream, and even when I
found myself at the door of the hotel, whence I had been so cruelly
ejected, I felt none of those qualms which must have shaken me had I
been sensible. I did not even question how I should reach Monseigneur,
or get the news to him: which proves that we often delude ourselves with
vain fears, and climb obstacles where none exist. For, as it happened,
he was descending from his coach when I entered the yard, and though he
raised his gold-headed staff at sight of me, and in a fury bade the
servants put me out, I had the passion if not the wit to wave the velvet
coat in his face, and cry my errand before them all.

Heaven knows at that there was such a sudden pause and about-face as
must have made even the stolen dog laugh had it been there. Monseigneur
in high excitement bade them bring me in to him as soon as he was
shifted, the secretary whispered in my ear that he had a cloak that
would replace the one I had lost, a valet told me that my wife was gone
to her father's, a serving-man brought me food, and nudged me to
remember him, while others ran and fetched me shoes and a cap; and
all--all from the head-clerk, who was most insistent, downwards, would
know where the dog was, and how I came to know what I did.

But I had even then the sense to keep my secret, and would tell my story
only to the Bishop. He had me in, and heard it. In ten minutes he was in
his coach on his way to the Montmartre Faubourg, taking me with him.

His presence and the food they had given me while I waited had sobered
me somewhat; and I trembled as we went lest the man who had spared me on
terms so strange had some disappointment yet in store for