You ought to have had
a letter yesterday from Havre."
"I received none. Be sure, monsieur, that I will help you," said
Canalis, "so far as I have the opportunity of doing so."
Dumay withdrew, his heart torn with anxiety, believing that the
wretched Butscha had worn the skin of the poet to deceive Modeste;
whereas Butscha himself, keen-witted as a prince seeking revenge, and
far cleverer than any paid spy, was ferretting out the life and
actions of Canalis, escaping notice by his insignificance, like an
insect that bores its way into the sap of a tree.
The Breton had scarcely left the poet's house when La Briere entered
his friend's study. Naturally, Canalis told him of the visit of the
man from Havre.
"Ha!" said Ernest, "Modeste Mignon; that is just what I have come to
speak of."
"Ah, bah!" cried Canalis; "have I had a triumph by proxy?"
"Yes; and here is the key to it. My friend, I am loved by the sweetest
girl in all the world,--beautiful enough to shine beside the greatest
beauties in Paris, with a heart and mind worthy of Clarissa. She has
seen me; I have pleased her, and she thinks me the great Canalis.
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