"And you, who talked to him about his wife's lovers and his skin
diseases!" said Mistigris, turning on Oscar.

"What does he mean?" exclaimed the steward's wife, gazing after the
two artists, who went away laughing at the expression of Oscar's face.

Oscar remained dumb, confounded, stupefied, hearing nothing, though
Madame Moreau questioned him and shook him violently by his arm, which
she caught and squeezed. She gained nothing, however, and was forced
to leave him in the salon without an answer, for Rosalie appeared
again, to ask for linen and silver, and to beg she would go herself
and see that the multiplied orders of the count were executed. All the
household, together with the gardeners and the concierge and his wife,
were going and coming in a confusion that may readily be imagined. The
master had fallen upon his own house like a bombshell.

From the top of the hill near La Cave, where he left the coach, the
count had gone, by the path through the woods well-known to him, to
the house of his gamekeeper. The keeper was amazed when he saw his
real master.

"Is Moreau here?" said the count. "I see his horse."

"No, monseigneur; he means to go to Moulineaux before dinner, and he
has left his horse here while he went to the chateau to give a few
orders."

"If you value your place," said the count, "you will take that horse
and ride at once to Beaumont, where you will deliver to Monsieur