rough with a dreadful foreboding.

They were now about to descend the steep hill of La Cave, at the foot of
which, in a narrow valley, flanked by the forest of Saint-Martin, stands
the magnificent chateau of Presles.

"Messieurs," said the count, "I wish you every good fortune in your
various careers. Monsieur le colonel, make your peace with the King
of France; the Czerni-Georges ought not to snub the Bourbons. I have
nothing to wish for you, my dear Monsieur Schinner; your fame is already
won, and nobly won by splendid work. But you are much to be feared in
domestic life, and I, being a married man, dare not invite you to my
house. As for Monsieur Husson, he needs no protection; he possesses the
secrets of statesmen and can make them tremble. Monsieur Leger is about
to pluck the Comte de Serizy, and I can only exhort him to do it with a
firm hand. Pierrotin, put me out here, and pick me up at the same place
to-morrow," added the count, who then left the coach and took a path
through the woods, leaving his late companions confused and bewildered.

"He must be that count who has hired Franconville; that's the path to
it," said Leger.

"If ever again," said the false Schinner, "I am caught blague-ing in
a public coach, I'll fight a duel with myself. It was your fault,
Mistigris," giving his rapin a tap on the head.

"All I did was to help you out, and follow you to Venice," said
Mistigris; "but that's always the way, 'Fortune belabors the slave.'"

"Let me tell you," said Georges to his neighbor Oscar, "that if, by
chance, that was the Comte de Serizy, I wouldn't be in your skin for a
good deal, healthy as you think it."

Oscar, remembering his mother's injunctions, which these words recalled
to his mind, turned pale and came to his senses.

"Here you are, messieurs!" cried Pierrotin, pulling up at a fine iron
gate.

"Here we are--where?" said the painter, and Georges, and Oscar all at
once.

"Well, well!" exclaimed Pierrotin, "if that doesn't beat all! Ah ca,
monsieurs, have none of you been here before? Why, this is the chateau
de Presles."

"Oh, yes; all right, friend," said Georges, recovering his audacity.
"But I happen to be going on to Les Moulineaux," he added, not wishing
his companions to know that he was really going to the chateau.

"You don't say so? Then you are coming to me," said Pere Leger.

"How so?"

"Why, I'm the farmer at Moulineaux. Hey, colonel, what brings you
there?"

"To tast