Now the bell in the tower above us rang a short peal, the
signal for the opening of La Friponne, and the bustling crowd moved
towards its doors. As I stood there on the great steps, I chanced
to look along the plain, bare front of the palace to an annex at
the end, and standing in a doorway opening on a pair of steps was
Voban. I was amazed that he should be there--the man whose life
had been spoiled by Bigot. At the same moment Doltaire motioned to
him to return inside; which he did.
Doltaire laughed at my surprise, and as he showed me inside
the palace said: "There is no barber in the world like Voban.
Interesting interesting! I love to watch his eye when he draws the
razor down my throat. It would be so easy to fetch it across; but
Voban, as you see, is not a man of absolute conviction. It will be
sport, some day, to put Bigot's valet to bed with a broken leg or
a fit of spleen, and send Voban to shave him."
"Where is Mathilde?" I asked, as though I knew naught of her
whereabouts.
"Mathilde is where none may touch her, monsieur; under the
protection of the daintiest lady of New France. It is her whim; and
when a lady is charming, an Intendant, even, must not trouble her
caprice."
He did not need to speak more plainly. It was he who had prevented
Bigot from taking Mathilde away from Alixe, and locking her up, or
worse.
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