he angle,
and when he came nigh to the young girl he stopped. And then was heard
the trot of another horse; and some moments after there followed a groom
in a brown coat with silver buttons, white leather breeches, and
top-boots. A leathern belt secured around his waist his master's
macintosh. His master was dressed simply in a stout brown frock-coat,
and a pair of light gray trousers, which fitted closely. He was mounted
on a thoroughbred and splendid bay horse, which he sat admirably, and
which, in spite of the fast gallop, had not a bead of sweat on his skin,
which was as bright and brilliant as a star. The groom's gray horse,
which stood motionless a few paces behind his master, was also well-bred
and perfect of his kind. In the handsome dark face of the gentleman
Tortillard recognised the Vicomte de Saint-Remy, who was supposed to be
the lover of the Duchesse de Lucenay.

"My pretty lass," said the viscount to the Goualeuse, whose lovely
countenance struck him, "would you be so obliging as to tell me the way
to the village of Arnouville?"

Fleur-de-Marie's eyes sunk before the bold and admiring look of the
young man, as she replied:

"On leaving the sunken road, sir, you must take the first turning to the
right, and that path will lead you to an avenue of cherry-trees, which
is the straight road to Arnouville."

"A thousand thanks, my pretty lass! You tell me better than an old
woman, whom I found a few yards further on stretched under a tree, for I
could only get groans and moans out of her."

"My poor grandmother!" said Tortillard, in a whining tone.

"One word more," said M. de Saint-Remy, addressing La Goualeuse. "Can
you tell me if I shall easily find M. Dubreuil's farm at Arnouville?"

Goualeuse could not prevent a shudder at these words, which recalled to
her the painful scene of the morning. She replied:

"The farm-buildings border the avenue which you must enter to reach
Arnouville, sir."

"Once more, many thanks, my pretty dear," said M. de Saint-Remy; and he
galloped off with his groom.

The handsome features of the viscount were in full animation whilst he
was talking to Fleur-de-Marie, but when he was again alone they became
darkened and contracted by painful uneasiness. Fleur-de-Marie,
remembering the unknown person for whom they were so hastily preparing a
pavilion at the farm of Arnouville by Madame de Lucenay's orders, felt
convinced it was for this young and good-looking cavalier.

T