"Yes, yes, I'm the boy. Where's my family? Can you tell me?"
"I don't know any more than just what I've told you, my boy; I should say my young gentleman."
"What did Barberin say about my parents? Oh, do tell me," I said imploringly.
She threw her arms up towards heaven.
"Ah, if that isn't a story!"
"Well, tell it me. What is it?"
At this moment a woman who looked like a servant came forward. The mistress of the Hotel du Cantal turned to her: "If this isn't an affair! This boy here, this young gentleman, is the man Barberin talked so much about."
"But didn't Barberin speak to you about my family?" I asked.
"I should say so—more than a hundred times. A very rich family it is, that you've got, my boy, my young gentleman."
"And where do they live and what is their name?"
"Barberin wouldn't tell us anything. He was that mysterious. He wanted to get all the reward for himself."
"Didn't he leave any papers?"
"No, nothing except one that said he came from Chavanon. If we hadn't found that, we couldn't have let his wife know he's dead."
"Oh, you did let her know?"
"Sure, why not?"
