rning soup; the maids were going and coming; and at
the stable a groom was rubbing down with great energy a thorough-bred
horse.

On the front-steps stood Master Anthony, M. de Boiscoran's own man,
smoking his cigar in the bright sunlight, and overlooking the farm
operations. He was a man of nearly fifty, still very active, who had
been bequeathed to his new master by his uncle, together with his
possessions. He was a widower now; and his daughter was in the
marchioness' service.

As he had been born in the family, and never left it afterwards, he
looked upon himself as one of them, and saw no difference between his
own interests and those of his master. In fact, he was treated less like
a servant than like a friend; and he fancied he knew every thing about
M. de Boiscoran's affairs.

When he saw the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney come up to the
door, he threw away his cigar, came down quickly, and, bowing deeply,
said to them with his most engaging smile,--

"Ah, gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise! My master will be delighted."

With strangers, Anthony would not have allowed himself such familiarity,
for he was very formal; but he had seen M. Daubigeon more than once at
the chateau; and he knew the plans that had been discussed between
M. Galpin and his master. Hence he was not a little amazed at the
embarrassed stiffness of the two gentlemen, and at the tone of voice in
which the magistrate asked him,--

"Has M. de Boiscoran gotten up yet?"

"Not yet," he replied; "and I have orders not to wake him. He came home
late last night, and wanted to make up this morning."

Instinctively the magistrate and the attorney looked away, each fearing
to meet the other's eyes.

"Ah! M. de Boiscoran came home late last night?" repeated M. Galpin.

"Towards midnight, rather after midnight than before."

"And when had he gone out?"

"He left here about eight."

"How was he dressed?"

"As usually. He had light gray trousers, a shooting-jacket of brown
velveteen, and a large straw hat."

"Did he take his gun?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know where he went?"

But for the respect which he felt for his master's friends, Anthony
would not have answered these questions, which he thought were extremely
impertinent. But this last question seemed to him to go beyond all fair
limits. He replied, therefore, in a tone of injured self-respect,--

"I am not in the habit of asking my master where he goes when he leaves