e through the window. Whether the recognition was
mutual I cannot say--nor does it signify.

When we reached the Hotel de la Couronne, half an hour later, we saw
that same chaise disappearing round a corner of the street, whilst
through the porte-cochere the hostler was leading a pair of horses,
foam-flecked and steaming with sweat.

Whither went Master Canaples at such a rate, and in a haste that caused
him to travel day and night? To a goal he little looked for--or rather,
which, in the madness of his headlong rush, he could not see. So I was
to learn ere long.

Next day I awoke betimes, and setting my window wide to let in the
fresh, clean-smelling air of that May morning I made shift to dress.
Save for the cackle of the poultry which had strayed into the courtyard,
and the noisy yawns and sleep-laden ejaculations of the stable-boy, who
was drawing water for the horses, all was still, for it had not yet gone
five o'clock.

But of a sudden a door opened somewhere, and a step rang out,
accompanied by the jangle of spurs, and with it came a sharp, unpleasant
voice calling for its owner's horse. There was a familiar sound in those
shrill accents that caused me to thrust my head through the casement.
But I was quick to withdraw it, as I recognised in the gaily dressed
little fellow below my old friend Malpertuis.

I know not what impulse made me draw back so suddenly. The action was as
much the child of instinct as of the lately acquired habit of concealing
my face from the gaze of all who were likely to spread abroad the news
that I still lived.

From behind my curtains I watched Malpertuis ride out of the yard,
saying, in answer to a parting question of the landlord, who had come
upon the scene, that he would breakfast at Beaugency.

Then, as he rode down the street, he of a sudden raised his discordant
voice and sang to the accompaniment of his horse's hoofs. And the burden
of his song ran thus:

A frondeur wind
Got up to-day,
'Gainst Mazarin
It blows, they say.

I listened in amazement to his raven's voice.

Whither was he bound, I asked myself, and whence a haste that made him
set out fasting, with an anti-cardinalist ditty on his lips, and ride
two leagues to seek a breakfast in a village that did not hold an inn
where a dog might be housed in comfort?

Like Eugene de Canaples, he also travelled towards a goal that he little
dreamt of. And so albeit the one went south and the othe