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.
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