m already sealed."

"Give it me," said Andrea, and he read by the light of his
carriage-lamp,--"You know where I live; I expect you tomorrow morning at
nine o'clock."

Andrea examined it carefully, to ascertain if the letter had been
opened, or if any indiscreet eyes had seen its contents; but it was
so carefully folded, that no one could have read it, and the seal was
perfect. "Very well," said he. "Poor man, he is a worthy creature."
He left the porter to ponder on these words, not knowing which most to
admire, the master or the servant. "Take out the horses quickly, and
come up to me," said Andrea to his groom. In two seconds the young man
had reached his room and burnt Caderousse's letter. The servant entered
just as he had finished. "You are about my height, Pierre," said he.

"I have that honor, your excellency."

"You had a new livery yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have an engagement with a pretty little girl for this evening, and do
not wish to be known; lend me your livery till to-morrow. I may sleep,
perhaps, at an inn." Pierre obeyed. Five minutes after, Andrea left the
hotel, completely disguised, took a cabriolet, and ordered the driver to
take him to the Cheval Rouge, at Picpus. The next morning he left that
inn as he had left the Hotel des Princes, without being noticed, walked
down the Faubourg St. Antoine, along the boulevard to Rue Menilmontant,
and stopping at the door of the third house on the left looked for some
one of whom to make inquiry in the porter's absence. "For whom are you
looking, my fine fellow?" asked the fruiteress on the opposite side.

"Monsieur Pailletin, if you please, my good woman," replied Andrea.

"A retired baker?" asked the fruiteress.

"Exactly."

"He lives at the end of the yard, on the left, on the third story."
Andrea went as she directed him, and on the third floor he found a
hare's paw, which, by the hasty ringing of the bell, it was evident he
pulled with considerable ill-temper. A moment after Caderousse's face
appeared at the grating in the door. "Ah, you are punctual," said he, as
he drew back the door.

"Confound you and your punctuality!" said Andrea, throwing himself into
a chair in a manner which implied that he would rather have flung it at
the head of his host.

"Come, come, my little fellow, don't be angry. See, I have thought about
you--look at the good breakfast we are going to have; nothing but what
you are fond of." Andrea, indeed, inhaled th