f being shot, or
that they have some enormous sum to lose in the case of an indiscretion.
If your master is fond enough of Mademoiselle Paquita Valdes to surmount
all these obstacles, he certainly won't triumph over Dona Concha
Marialva, the duenna who accompanies her and would put her under her
petticoats sooner than leave her. The two women look as if they were
sewn to one another."

"All that you say, worthy postman," went on Laurent, after having drunk
off his wine, "confirms me in what I have learned before. Upon my word,
I thought they were making fun of me! The fruiterer opposite told me
that of nights they let loose dogs whose food is hung up on stakes just
out of their reach. These cursed animals think, therefore, that any one
likely to come in has designs on their victuals, and would tear one to
pieces. You will tell me one might throw them down pieces, but it seems
they have been trained to touch nothing except from the hand of the
porter."

"The porter of the Baron de Nucingen, whose garden joins at the top that
of the Hotel San-Real, told me the same thing," replied the postman.

"Good! my master knows him," said Laurent, to himself. "Do you know,"
he went on, leering at the postman, "I serve a master who is a rare
man, and if he took it into his head to kiss the sole of the foot of an
empress, she would have to give in to him. If he had need of you, which
is what I wish for you, for he is generous, could one count on you?"

"Lord, Monsieur Laurent, my name is Moinot. My name is written exactly
like _Moineau_, magpie: M-o-i-n-o-t, Moinot."

"Exactly," said Laurent.

"I live at No. 11, Rue des Trois Freres, on the fifth floor," went on
Moinot; "I have a wife and four children. If what you want of me doesn't
transgress the limits of my conscience and my official duties, you
understand! I am your man."

"You are an honest fellow," said Laurent, shaking his hand....

"Paquita Valdes is, no doubt, the mistress of the Marquis de San-Real,
the friend of King Ferdinand. Only an old Spanish mummy of eighty years
is capable of taking such precautions," said Henri, when his _valet de
chambre_ had related the result of his researches.

"Monsieur," said Laurent, "unless he takes a balloon no one can get into
that hotel."

"You are a fool! Is it necessary to get into the hotel to have Paquita,
when Paquita can get out of it?"

"But, sir, the duenna?"

"We will shut her up for a day or two, your duenna."