e your butter," said Georges, pulling out his portfolio.

"Pierrotin," said Oscar, "leave my things at the steward's. I am going
straight to the chateau."

Whereupon Oscar plunged into a narrow path, not knowing, in the least,
where he was going.

"Hi! Monsieur l'ambassadeur," cried Pere Leger, "that's the way to the
forest; if you really want to get to the chateau, go through the little
gate."

Thus compelled to enter, Oscar disappeared into the grand court-yard.
While Pere Leger stood watching Oscar, Georges, utterly confounded
by the discovery that the farmer was the present occupant of Les
Moulineaux, has slipped away so adroitly that when the fat countryman
looked round for his colonel there was no sign of him.

The iron gates opened at Pierrotin's demand, and he proudly drove in to
deposit with the concierge the thousand and one utensils belonging to
the great Schinner. Oscar was thunderstruck when he became aware that
Mistigris and his master, the witnesses of his bravado, were to be
installed in the chateau itself. In ten minutes Pierrotin had discharged
the various packages of the painter, the bundles of Oscar Husson, and
the pretty little leather portmanteau, which he took from its nest of
hay and confided mysteriously to the wife of the concierge. Then he
drove out of the courtyard, cracking his whip, and took the road that
led through the forest to Isle-Adam, his face beaming with the sly
expression of a peasant who calculates his profits. Nothing was lacking
now to his happiness; on the morrow he would have his thousand francs,
and, as a consequence, his magnificent new coach.

CHAPTER VI. THE MOREAU INTERIOR

Oscar, somewhat abashed, was skulking behind a clump of trees in the
centre of the court-yard, and watching to see what became of his two
road-companions, when Monsieur Moreau suddenly came out upon the portico
from what was called the guard-room. He was dressed in a long blue
overcoat which came to his heels, breeches of yellowish leather and
top-boots, and in his hand he carried a riding-whip.

"Ah! my boy, so here you are? How is the dear mamma?" he said, taking
Oscar by the hand. "Good-day, messieurs," he added to Mistigris and his
master, who then came forward. "You are, no doubt, the two painters whom
Monsieur Grindot, the architect, told me to expect."

He whistled twice at the end of his whip; the concierge came.

"Take these gentlemen to rooms 14 and 15. Madame Moreau will