ded seriously, and with much concern, to what he had to
say, of which I could hear nothing. I then saw what the case was: this
was a serving-maid whom the endangered lady had taken into confidence,
and who had impressed her lover into service to carry that lady's
message. The lady herself must be in that chateau,--perhaps a prisoner.
My first step must be to find out who were the dwellers in the chateau,
and as much of their affairs as the world could tell me.

The interview between the two young people was not long. It ended in
another embrace; the girl ran back over the plank, waved her hand at her
lover, and disappeared, the postern door closing after her. The young
man, with a last tender look at the door, hastened back as he had come.
I had to crawl suddenly under some low bushes to avoid his sight, making
a noise which caused him to stop within six feet of me. But I suppose he
ascribed the sound to some bird or animal, for he soon went on again.

I lay still for some time, being under no further necessity of observing
him. I then walked back to the inn at Montoire at a leisurely pace.
Looking into the stables when I arrived, I saw that the messenger's
horse was gone. He lived, as I afterwards learned from the innkeeper, on
another road than that which led to the chateau. I suppose he had chosen
to go afoot to the chateau for the sake of easier concealment.

The innkeeper was looking amazed and injured, at my having gone away and
let my dinner spoil.

"I was taken with a sudden sickness," I explained. "There's nothing like
a walk in the fresh air when the stomach is qualmish. I am quite well
now. I'll have another dinner, just what I ordered before."

As this meant my paying for two dinners, the landlord was soon restored
to good-nature. He was a cheerful, hearty soul, and as communicative as
I could desire.

"That is a strong chateau about half a league yonder," I said to him, as
I sipped his excellent white wine.

"Yes, the Chateau de Lavardin," he replied. "Strong?--yes, indeed."

"Who lives there?"

"The Count de Lavardin."

"What sort of man is he?"

"What sort? Well!--an old man, for one thing,--or growing old. Or maybe
you mean, what does he look like?"

"Yes, of course."

"A lean old grey wolf, I have heard him likened to--without offence, of
course. Yes, he is a thin old man, but of great strength, for all that."

"Is he a good landlord?"

"Oh, he is not my landlord," said the innkeeper,