He inquired of the servant who sat on a bench on the steps whether the Baron de Nucingen were at home; and the man respectfully threw open the splendid plate-glass doors.

“Your name, sir?” said the footman.

“Tell the Baron that I have come from the Avenue Gabriel,” said Corentin.  “If anybody is with him, be sure not to say so too loud, or you will find yourself out of place!”

A minute later the man came back and led Corentin by the back passages to the Baron’s private room.

Corentin and the banker exchanged impenetrable glances, and both bowed politely.

“Monsieur le Baron,” said Corentin, “I come in the name of Peyrade——­”

“Ver’ gott!” said the Baron, fastening the bolts of both doors.

“Monsieur de Rubempre’s mistress lives in the Rue Taitbout, in the apartment formerly occupied by Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille, M. de Granville’s ex-mistress—­the Attorney-General——­”

“Vat, so near to me?” exclaimed the Baron.  “Dat is ver’ strange.”

“I can quite understand your being crazy about that splendid creature; it was a pleasure to me to look at her,” replied Corentin.  “Lucien is so jealous of the girl that he never allows her to be seen; and she loves him devotedly; for in four years, since she succeeded la Bellefeuille in those rooms, inheriting her furniture and her profession, neither the neighbors, nor the porter, nor the other tenants in the house have ever set eyes on her.  My lady never stirs out but at night.  When she sets out, the blinds of the carriage are pulled down, and she is closely veiled.

“Lucien has other reasons besides jealousy for concealing this woman.  He is to be married to Clotilde de Grandlieu, and he is at this moment Madame de Serizy’s favorite fancy.  He naturally wishes to keep a hold on his fashionable mistress and on his promised bride.  So, you are master of the position, for Lucien will sacrifice his pleasure to his interests and his vanity.  You are rich; this is probably your last chance of happiness; be liberal.  You can gain your end through her waiting-maid.  Give the slut ten thousand francs; she will hide you in her mistress’ bedroom.  It must be quite worth that to you.”

No figure of speech could describe the short, precise tone of finality in which Corentin spoke; the Baron could not fail to observe it, and his face expressed his astonishment—­an expression he had long expunged from his impenetrable features.

“I have also to ask you for five thousand francs for my friend Peyrade, who has dropped five of your thousand-franc notes—­a tiresome accident,” Corentin went on, in a lordly tone of command.  “Peyrade knows his Paris too well to spend money in advertising, and he trusts entirely to you.  But this is not the most important point,” added Corentin, checking himself in such a way as to make the request for money seem quite a trifle.  “If you do not want to end your days miserably, get the place for Peyrade that he asked you to procure for him—­and it is a thing you can easily do.  The Chief of the General Police must have had notice of the matter yesterday.  All that is needed is to get Gondreville to speak to the Prefet of Police.—­Very well, just say to Malin, Comte de Gondreville, that it is to oblige one of the men who relieved him of MM. de Simeuse, and he will work it——­”