might rise the earlier.

But early as I rose, my young friend had beaten me. The ostler to whom I
described him said he had ridden off half-an-hour ago. In no very
amiable mood, I rode after him. Not till the forenoon was half spent,
did I catch up. He saluted me politely, and gave me his views of the
weather, but was not otherwise talkative. We rode together pleasantly
enough, but there was no more of that openness in him which would have
made me feel safe in resuming the subject of Monsieur de Merri. As we
approached noon and our destination, I asked him about the different
families of consequence living thereabouts, and he mentioned several
names and circumstances, but told me nothing from which I could infer
the possibility of danger to any of their ladies. It was toward mid-day
when we rode into the great square of Montoire, and found ourselves
before the inn of the Three Kings.

I turned to take leave of my travelling companion, thinking that as he
belonged to this town he would go on to his own house.

"I'm going to stop here for a glass of wine and to leave my horse
awhile," he said, noticing my movement.

He followed me through the archway. A stout innkeeper welcomed me, saw
me dismount, and then turned to my young fellow-traveller, speaking with
good-natured familiarity:

"Ah, my child, so you are back safe after your journey. Let us see, how
long have you been away? Since Sunday morning--four days and a half. I
might almost guess where you've been, from the time--for all the secret
you make of it."

The young man laughed perfunctorily, and led his horse to the stable
after the ostler who had taken mine.

"A pleasant young man," said I, staying with the landlord. "He lives in
this town, he tells me."

"Yes, an excellent youth. He owns his bit of land, and though his father
was a miller, his children may come near being gentlemen."

I went into the kitchen, and ordered dinner. Presently my young man
entered and had his wine, which he poured down quickly. He then bowed to
me, and went away, like one who wishes to lose no time.

Suddenly the whole probability of the case appeared to me in a flash.
Regardless of the wine before me, and of the dinner I had ordered, I
rose and followed him.

I had put together his reticence about Monsieur de Merri, his having
been away from Montoire just four and a half days, the direction of his
journey, and his errand to be done immediately on returning. He must be