"Until tomorrow, then, for here is the Hotel de l'Epee." From the broad doorway of an imposing building a warm glow of light issued out and spread itself fanwise across the ill-paved street.
In this--like bats about a lamp--flitted the black figures of gaping urchins and other stragglers, and into this I now passed, having taken leave of my companions.
I mounted the steps and I was about to cross the threshold, when suddenly above a burst of laughter that greeted my ears I caught the sound of a singularly familiar voice.

This seemed raised at present to address such company as might be within.

One moment of doubt had I--for it was a month since last I had heard those soft, unctuous accents.
Then I was assured that the voice I heard was, indeed, the voice of my steward Ganymede.

Castelroux's messenger had found him at last, it seemed, and had brought him to Toulouse.
I was moved to spring into the room and greet that old retainer for whom, despite the gross and sensuous ways that with advancing years were claiming him more and more, I had a deep attachment.

But even as I was on the point of entering, not only his voice, but the very words that he was uttering floated out to my ears, and they were of a quality that held me there to play the hidden listener for the second time in my life in one and the same day..