riage proceeded more slowly still. At Oudan he halted; he chose the
Char Couronne, a house which had some windows overlooking the road, and
which, moreover, was the best inn in the village.

While his dinner was preparing, Gaston, in spite of the cold, remained
in the balcony; but in vain he looked for the carriage he so much
wished to see.

Then he thought that perhaps Helene had preceded him, and was already in
the inn. He went at once to a window at the back, overlooking the
courtyard, to inspect the carriages standing there.

His attention was arrested by seeing, not the carriage, but his servant,
Owen, speaking earnestly to a man dressed in gray and wrapped in a sort
of military cloak, who, after a short conversation, mounted his horse
and rode off with the air of a man to whom speed is of the utmost
importance, as Gaston heard his steps along the road to Paris.

At this moment the servant raised his eyes, and began busily brushing
the snow from his boots and clothes.

Gaston signed to him to approach.

"Who were you talking with, Owen?"

"To a man, M. Gaston."

"Who is that man?"

"A traveler--a soldier, who was asking his way."

"His way; to what place?"

"To Rennes."

"But you could not tell him, for you do not know this place."

"I asked the landlord, monsieur."

"Why could not he ask himself?"

"Because he had had a quarrel with him about the price of his dinner,
and did not wish to speak to him again."

"Hum," said Gaston.

Nothing was more natural than this, yet Gaston became thoughtful; but he
quickly threw off his suspicions, accusing himself of becoming timid at
a time when he most needed courage; his brow remained clouded, however,
for the carriage did not appear.

He thought at one moment that Helene might have chosen another road in
order to part from him without noise or quarrel, but he soon concluded
that it was only some accident which delayed her; he sat down again to
table, though he had finished his dinner, and when Owen appeared to
clear away, "Some wine," said he. Owen had already removed a half empty
bottle.

"Some wine?" repeated the servant in astonishment, for Gaston usually
drank but little.

"Yes, some wine; is there anything surprising in that?"

"No, monsieur," replied Owen.

And he transmitted the order for a second bottle of wine to the waiter.
Gaston poured out a glass, drank it, then a second.

Owen stared.

Then, thinking it both his duty and his in