"Explain yourself." "Simply this.

I know such a young man, and it was the thought of this that made me feel so ill.

He is thirty-three.

He was at the Foundling Hospital; he left it at the age of twelve and a half years; and he has just such a scald on his shoulder, which he got when he was apprenticed to a tanner." "And where," asked Mascarin quickly, "is this same young man?
What is his name, and what does he do for a living ?" "He is a painter; his name is Andre, and he lives--" A blasphemous oath from Mascarin interrupted him.

"This is the third time," said he fiercely, "that this cursed fellow has crossed our path; but I swear that it shall be the last." Hortebise and Catenac were livid with alarm.
"What do you intend to do ?" asked they.
"I shall do nothing," answered he; "but you know that this Andre, in addition to being a painter, is an ornamental sculptor and house decorator, and so is often on lofty scaffolds.