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Marie Antoinette Romances, Vol 1: Balsamo, The Magician

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<h2>CHAPTER XLIII. TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE.</h2> Chon had not been many minutes scanning the Taverney lady, when Viscount Jean, racing up the stairs four at a time like a schoolboy, appeared on the threshold of the pretended widow's room. "Hurrah, Jean, I am placed splendidly to see what goes on, but I am unfortunate about hearing." "You ask too much. Oh, I say, I have a bit of news, marvelous and incomparable. Those philosophic fellows say a wise man ought to be ready for anything, but I cannot be wise, for this knocked me. I give you a hundred chances to guess who I ran up against at a public fountain at the corner; he was sopping a piece of bread in the gush, and it was—our philosopher." "Who? Gilbert?" "The very boy, with bare head, open waistcoat, stockings ungartered, shoes without buckles, in short, just as he turned out of bed." "Then he lives by here? Did you speak to him?" "We recognized one another, and when I thrust out my hand, he bolted like a harrier among the crowd, so that I lost sight of him. You don't think I was going to run after him, do you?" "Hardly, but then you have lost him." "What a pity!" said the girl Sylvie, whom Chon had brought along as her maid. "Yes, certainly," said Jean; "I owe him a hundred stripes with a whip, and they would not have spoilt by keeping any longer had I got a grip of his collar; but he guessed my good intentions and fled. No matter, here he is in town; and when one has the ear of the chief of police, anybody can be found." "Shut him up when you catch him," said Sylvie, "but in a safe place." "And make you turnkey over him," suggested Jean, winking. "She would like to take him his bread and water." "Stop your joking, brother," said Chon; "the young fellow saw your row over the post-horses, and he is to be feared if you set him against you." "How can he live without means?" "Tut, he will hold horses or run errands." "Never mind him; come to our observatory." Brother and sister approached the window with infinity of precautions. Jean had provided himself with a telescope. Andrea had dropped her needlework, put up her feet on a lower chair, taken a book, and was reading it with some attention, for she remained very still. "Fie on the studious person!" sneered Chon. "What an admirable one!" added Jean. "A perfect being—what arms, what hands! what eyes! lips that would wreck the soul of St. Anthony—oh, the divine feet—and what an ankle in that silk hose?" "Hold your tongue! this is coming on finely," said Chon. "You are smitten with her, now. This is the drop that fills the bucket." "It would not be a bad job if it were so, and she returned me the flame a little. It would save our poor sister a lot of worry." "Let me have the spyglass a while. Yes, she is very handsome, and she must have had a sweetheart out there in the woods. But she is not reading—see, the book slips out of her hand. I tell you, Jean, that she is in a brown study." "She sleeps, you mean." "Not with her eyes open—what lovely eyes! This a good glass, Jean—I can almost read in her book." "What is the book, then?" Chon was leaning out a little when she suddenly drew back. "Gracious! look at that head sticking out of the garret window——" "Gilbert, by Jove! with what burning eyes he is glaring on the Taverney girl!" "I have it: he is the country gallant of his lady. He has had the notice where she was coming to live in Paris and he has taken a room close to her. A change of dovecote for the turtle-doves." "Sister, we need not trouble now, for he will do all the watching——" "For his own gain." "No, for ours. Let me pass, as I must go and see the chief of police. By Jupiter, what luck we have! But don't you let Philosopher catch a glimpse of you—he would decamp very quick." <hr style="width:65%;"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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