Isn't he strong, the dear love! I wonder what they did last night." "Oh, there you are, my little Flore!" said Max, waking like a soldier trained by the necessities of war to have his wits and his self-possession about him the instant that he waked, however suddenly it might happen.
"You are sleepy; I'll go away." "No, stay; there's something serious going on." "Were you up to some mischief last night ?" "Ah, bah! It concerns you and me and that old fool.

You never told me he had a family! Well, his family are coming,--coming here,--no doubt to turn us out, neck and crop." "Ah! I'll shake him well," said Flore.
"Mademoiselle Brazier," said Max gravely, "things are too serious for giddiness.

Send me my coffee; I'll take it in bed, where I'll think over what we had better do.

Come back at nine o'clock, and we'll talk about it.

Meanwhile, behave as if you had heard nothing." Frightened at the news, Flore left Max and went to make his coffee; but a quarter of an hour later, Baruch burst into Max's bedroom, crying out to the grand master,-- "Fario is hunting for his barrow!" In five minutes Max was dressed and in the street, and though he sauntered along with apparent indifference, he soon reached the foot of the tower embankment, where he found quite a collection of people.
"What is it ?" asked Max, making his way through the crowd and reaching the Spaniard.
Fario was a withered little man, as ugly as though he were a blue-blooded grandee.