"You have nearly reached the end of your journey.

The portress at the house in the Rue Montmartre is the most obliging woman in the world.

She will tell you that the musician still retains his rooms in the house, but that he resides there no longer, for he has made a lucky hit, and last month he married the daughter of a wealthy banker living close by.

The young lady, Mademoiselle Rigal, saw him, and fell in love with him." A clever man like Catenac should have foreseen what was coming, but he had not, and at this conclusion he uttered a loud exclamation of surprise.
"Yes, just so," said Mascarin, with an air of bland triumph.

"The Duke de Champdoce will then drag you off to our mutual friend Martin Rigal, and there you will find our young _protege_, the happy husband of the beautiful Flavia." Mascarin drew himself up, and adjusted his glasses firmly on his nose.
"Now, my dear Catenac, show the liberality and amiability of your disposition by congratulating our friend Paul as Gontran, Marquis de Champdoce." Hortebise, of course, knew what was coming; he knew the lines of the plot of the play as if he had been a joint author of it, and was as much excited as if he were assisting at a first rehearsal.
"Bravo!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.