“Please bring me to-morrow,” he said, “all that I believed that I really owned--the handsomest things that you have; you will see, monsieur, that I have the means to pay for genuine jewels.”
The jeweler bowed, assuring him that he should be obeyed; and they left the shop.
“As for your Monsieur Poterne,” cried Chérubin to Daréna, “I advise him not to show his face at my house again.”
Daréna, making a show of being furious, seized Chérubin’s hand and shook it violently.
“My friend,” he said, “I am the involuntary cause of all this; that rascally Poterne deceived me as he did you. I am sure that he is robbing me shamefully too. But it is for me to punish him; I am going to find him now and give him a thrashing.”
With that, he hastily took his leave of the three young men and went home.
Daréna at this time occupied a small, but attractive apartment on Rue Neuve-Bréda. Thanks to Poterne’s transactions with the young marquis, of which Daréna received a share of the profits, he had been in funds for some time. His man of business occupied a small room above his apartment.
“Is Poterne in my rooms?” asked Daréna, as he passed the concierge.
“In yours or else in his, monsieur,” was the reply; “he’s upstairs. I just saw him go in with the little boy who’s been coming to see him every day for a fortnight.”
“Aha! so a little boy comes to see him every morning? About how old a boy?”
“Oh! perhaps ten or twelve years old; but he’s got a very sharp face. He ain’t handsome, but in spite of that, he’s got such a sly expression that you’d almost call him good-looking.”
“What in the deuce can Poterne be doing with this boy?” said Daréna to himself as he went upstairs. “Can it be his son? Oh, no! a man like him never acknowledges a child; he would have to take care of him. It’s probably some urchin whom he has hired to do his errands and polish his boots; but I supposed that he did all that himself.”
Daréna entered his room, and, not finding Poterne there, went up another flight and knocked at the door of his agent’s chamber.
Instantly there was a great commotion inside; it was as if chairs were being upset, and closet doors opened and shut. At last Monsieur Poterne’s shrill, unmusical voice inquired: