My story was not so long as Antonio's, for with the exception of my marriage, there was no event worthy narrating. I told him, however of my long illness, and the work that had brought it on, and I had scarce ended, when Madame Torrini entered the room. My friend's wife received me most kindly, saying:
"I have known you, sir, for a long time, as Antonio told me your history, which caused me to feel the greatest interest, and my husband and myself often regretted we could not hear of you. Now, however, M. Robert," she added, "that we have found you, consider yourself an old friend of the family and come to see us often."
I profited by this kind invitation, and more than once went to seek consolation and encouragement from these worthy friends.
Antonio still took an interest in conjuring, although it was a mere distraction by which he amused his friends.--Still, not a conjurer announced his performance but he went to see him. One morning he entered my workshop in great haste.
"Look here," he said, offering me a paper, "as you run after all the celebrated conjurers, here is one that will astonish you. Read."
I took the paper eagerly, and read the following puff:
"The famous Bosco, who can conjure away a house as easily as a nutmeg, is about to give his performances at Paris, in which some miraculous tricks will be executed."
"Well, what do you say to that?" Antonio asked me.
"A man must possess very great talent to undertake the responsibility of such praise. After all, I think the journalist is amusing himself at the expense of his readers, and that the famous Bosco only exists in his columns."
"You are quite wrong, my dear Robert: this conjurer is not an imaginary being, for not only have I read this puff in several papers, but I even saw Bosco last night at a café, giving some specimens of his skill, and announcing his first performance for next Tuesday."
"If it be so," I said to my friend, "I must ask you to spend the evening with M. Bosco, and I will come and call for you."
"Done," said Antonio, "mind and call for me on Tuesday at half-past seven, as the performance commences at eight."
At the appointed time we proceeded to the Rue Chantereine, where the performance was announced. At the money-taker's we found ourselves face to face with a stout gentleman, dressed in a coat adorned with frogs and trimmed with fur, making him look like a Russian prince on his travels. Antonio nudged me with his elbow, and said, in a whisper, "That's he!"