is morning he suddenly made up his mind to start
at once, and came off without saying where he was bound for. Until I
told him, the man didn't know that the name of this town was La Fleche."

"And what else did he tell you?"

"That's all. He was only grumbling about having to come away so
unexpectedly, and being so in the dark about his master's plans."

"You're sure he didn't say what caused his master to change his mind and
start at once?"

"He said nothing more, Monsieur."

"Did he mention his master's name?"

"No, we didn't get as far as that. It was only his desire to complain to
somebody, that made him speak to me; and I was too busy with the horses
to say much in reply."

"Then you didn't give my name--to him or any one else here?"

"Not to a soul, Monsieur."

"That's fortunate. Well, we must be attending to our business. I will
pay the landlord, and give him some reason for riding on. While you are
getting the animals ready, I will try to sound this valet a little
deeper. Come."

Without another look behind, we hastened back to the inn.

"It's a fine evening," said I to the landlord, "and that gentleman I saw
here awhile ago has given me the notion of riding on while the air is
cool." I spoke as steadily as I could, and I suppose if the landlord
detected any want of ease he put it down to the embarrassment of
announcing a change of mind. In any case, he was not slow to compute the
reckoning, nor I to pay it. Then, after seeing my bag and cloak brought
down, I went in search of the young gentleman's valet. I found him in
the kitchen, half way through a bottle of wine.

"Your master has not yet ridden on, then?" said I, dropping carelessly
on the bench opposite him.

"No, Monsieur," he replied unsuspectingly. He seemed more like a country
groom than a gentleman's body servant.

"I have decided to go on this evening, in imitation of him," I
continued.

"Then your servant had better come back and finish his supper. It's
getting cold yonder. Just as he was going to begin eating, he thought of
something, and went out, and hasn't returned yet."

It was, alas, true. In my excitement I had forgotten all about Nicolas's
supper, which he had left in order to see if I wanted my cloak for the
cool of the evening.

"I sent him on an errand," I replied. "He shall sup doubly well later.
As I was about to say, your master--by the way, if I knew his name I
could mention him properly: we have so far neglected