eople--two gentlemen and a
lady--stepped out of a carriage at the villa gates, and found themselves
face to face with a traveller who had come on foot. Two exclamations
broke out simultaneously.

"Marechal!" "Monsieur Savinien!"

"You! at Nice? And by what miracle?"

"A miracle which makes you travel fifteen leagues an hour in exchange
for a hundred and thirty-three francs first-class, and is called the
Marseilles express!"

"I beg your pardon, my dear friend. I have not introduced you to
Monsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog."

"I have already had the honor of meeting Mademoiselle Herzog at Madame
Desvarennes's," said Marechal, bowing to the young girl, without
appearing to notice the father.

"You were going to the villa?" asked Savinien. "We, too, were going. But
how is my aunt? When did you leave her?"

"I have not left her."

"What's that you say?"

"I say that she is here."

Savinien let his arms drop in profound consternation to show how
difficult it was for him to believe what was going on. Then, in a faint
treble voice, he said:

"My aunt! At Nice! Promenade des Anglais! That's something more
wonderful than the telephone and phonograph! If you had told me that the
Pantheon had landed one fine night on the banks of the Paillon, I should
not be more astonished. I thought Madame Desvarennes was as deeply
rooted in Paris as the Colonne Vendome! But tell me, what is the object
of this journey?"

"A freak."

"Which manifested itself--"

"Yesterday morning at breakfast. Pierre Delarue, who is going to
finish his business in Algeria, and then settle in France, came to say
'Good-by' to Madame Desvarennes. A letter arrived from the Princess.
She commenced reading it, then all at once she exclaimed 'Cayrol and his
wife arrived at Nice two days ago!' Pierre and I were astonished at the
tone in which she uttered these words. She was lost in thought for a
few moments, then she said to Pierre: 'You are leaving tonight for
Marseilles? Well, I shall go with you. You will accompany me to Nice.'
And turning toward me, she added: 'Marechal, pack up your portmanteau. I
shall take you with me."'

While speaking, they had walked across the garden, and reached the steps
leading to the villa.

"Nothing is easier than to explain this sudden journey," remarked
Mademoiselle Herzog. "On learning that Monsieur and Madame Cayrol were
at Nice with the Princess, Madame Desvarennes must have felt how
very lonely she was in Pa