A ver'
fine and big demoiselle. She wish to come out at de opera.
But she too large--mooch too large. Englees--yis--La
Juive."
"A Jewess?" cried Jennings in his turn.
"I swear to you, mon ami. Englees Jewess, mais oui! For ten
months she dance here, tree year gone. Zen zee orange peels
and pouf! I see her no mores. But never dance--no--too
large, une grande demoiselle."
"Do you know where she came from?"
"No. I know nozzin' but what I tell you."
"Did you like her?"
Le Beau shrugged his shoulders. "I am too old, mon ami. Les
femmes like me not. I haf had mes affairs--ah, yis.
Conceive--" and he rattled out an adventure of his youth
which was more amusing than moral.
But Jennings paid very little attention to him. He was
thinking that Maraquito-Celestine was a more mysterious woman
than he had thought her. While Jennings was wondering what
use he could make of the information he had received, Le Beau
suddenly flushed crimson. A new thought had occurred to him.
"Do you know zis one--zis Celestine Durand? Tell her I vish
money--"
"Did she not pay you?"
Le Beau seized Jennings' arm and shook it violently. "Yis.
Tree pound; quite raight; oh, certainly. But ze four piece of
gold, a louis--non--ze Englees sufferin--"
"The English sovereign. Yes."
"It was bad money--ver bad."
"Have you got it?" asked Jennings, feeling that he was on the
brink of a discovery.
"Non. I pitch him far off in rages.
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