journalist at once perceived--bronze kid
boots, gray silk stockings, a muslin dress, a green silk scarf with
shaded fringe at the ends, and a pretty black lace bonnet with flowers
in it. As to Lousteau, the wretch had assumed his war-paint--patent
leather boots, trousers of English kerseymere with pleats in front,
a very open waistcoat showing a particularly fine shirt and the black
brocade waterfall of his handsome cravat, and a very thin, very short
black riding-coat.

Monsieur de Clagny and Monsieur Gravier looked at each other, feeling
rather silly as they beheld the two Parisians in the carriage, while
they, like two simpletons, were left standing at the foot of the steps.
Monsieur de la Baudraye, who stood at the top waving his little hand in
a little farewell to the doctor, could not forbear from smiling as he
heard Monsieur de Clagny say to Monsieur Gravier:

"You should have escorted them on horseback."

At this juncture, Gatien, riding Monsieur de la Baudraye's quiet little
mare, came out of the side road from the stables and joined the party in
the chaise.

"Ah, good," said the Receiver-General, "the boy has mounted guard."

"What a bore!" cried Dinah as she saw Gatien. "In thirteen years--for I
have been married nearly thirteen years--I have never had three hours'
liberty.

"Married, madame?" said the journalist with a smile. "You remind me of
a saying of Michaud's--he was so witty! He was setting out for the Holy
Land, and his friends were remonstrating with him, urging his age,
and the perils of such an expedition. 'And then,' said one, 'you are
married.'--'Married!' said he, 'so little married.'"

Even the rigid Madame Piedefer could not repress a smile.

"I should not be surprised to see Monsieur de Clagny mounted on my pony
to complete the escort," said Dinah.

"Well, if the Public Prosecutor does not pursue us, you can get rid
of this little fellow at Sancerre. Bianchon must, of course, have left
something behind on his table--the notes for the first lecture of his
course--and you can ask Gatien to go back to Anzy to fetch it."

This simple little plot put Madame de la Baudraye into high spirits.
From the road between Anzy to Sancerre, a glorious landscape frequently
comes into view, of the noble stretches of the Loire, looking like
a lake, and it was got over very pleasantly, for Dinah was happy in
finding herself well understood. Love was discussed in theory, a subject
allowing lovers _in