e brakes scraped, and the train came sharply to a
stop. One heard the cry of "Macon! Macon!"

"Macon already!" said Martha.

That "_already_" rang delightfully in Raoul's ears. There was much in
that _already_. Raoul profited by the five minutes' stop to complete and
fix his little sketch, which was slightly jolted; and he did not notice
that his young brother-in-law had been sent out with a despatch to the
telegraph-office. The despatch had been secretly written by Mme. Derame,
and had, too, been directed to the Old Club.

The train started--4.11. Raoul had not thought to get down to see if
under the railing there was not a despatch addressed to him. There was
one, which was to remain eternally at Macon. The telegram contained
these words: "Return; no longer question of Antwerp marriage."

The train ran on and on, and now there was question of another dress--a
silk dress, light pink, with a large jabot of lace down the front. Raoul
literally dazzled Martha by his inexhaustible fertility of wise
expressions and technical terms.

* * * * *

While the express passed the Romaneche station (4.32) father Chamblard
came into the Old Club, went into the card-room, and met father Derame.
Piquet? With pleasure. So there they sat, face to face. There were there
eight or ten card-tables--piquet, bezique, whist, etc. The works were in
full blast. First game, and papa Derame is rubiconed; the second game
was going to begin when a footman arrives with a despatch for M.
Chamblard.

"Will you excuse me?"

"Certainly."

He reads, he becomes red; he rereads, and he gets scarlet.

It was Raoul's brilliant telegram from Dijon:

"Dear father, I shall not go. Most extraordinary meeting. Your Number
Three--yes, your Number Three--in the train with her mother, and I
wouldn't see her. Ah! if I had known. Strike while the iron's hot; I'm
striking it, strike it too. M. D. must be at the club, speak to him at
once; tell him that I left to avoid marrying an ugly woman; that I only
wish to make a love-match; that I am head-over-heels in love with his
daughter. We shall all be to-night at Marseilles, Hotel de Noailles. Get
M. D. to back me up by telegraph to Mme. D. I will talk with you
to-morrow over the telephone. I am writing my telegram in the
dining-car. At this moment she is nibbling nuts--charming, she is
charming! She fell into my arms on the platform. Till to-morrow at the
telephone, nine o'clock.