The Road to Paris: A Story of Adventure

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER XV.

  AN ELOPEMENT FROM A DILIGENCE.

  It came out, over the Burgundy, that Sir Hilary passed most of his timein Paris, but often repaired to Calais or Boulogne to be for the whilenearer England. He still remained from his own country because hedreaded being called on by the law for an account of the killing of Mr.Bullcott,--not that he feared the outcome as to his bodily safety, butthat such legal proceedings might bring out the name of his sister, andprovide the _Town and Country Magazine_ with a characteristic narrative,in which every one concerned should figure, the vowels in each namesupplanted by dashes. Bold as he was in many things, the fox-hunter wastimid as to that sort of celebrity.

  But the non-existence of any one who would desire to see SquireBullcott's removal avenged, promised eventual safety for Sir Hilary'sperson; and the general forgetfulness of things past would in timeenable him to return home without risk of reviving interest in theaffair at the Pelican, although he was forever officially branded bythe coroner's verdict as having caused the death of Bullcott undercircumstances to be further determined.

  And now, at the fourth bottle, Sir Hilary insisted on repaying Mr.Wetheral, with interest, for having silenced the landlord of thePelican. It seemed that Sir Hilary received plenty of money from hisestate, and, being given to amusements of the country, knew not how tospend it on the pleasures of Paris. He required that Dick should goalong immediately to a tailor's, and fit himself out handsomely, andDick, seeing how much gratification the Englishman really took in thiskind of generosity, made no protest. Nor did he object when thebountiful Berkshire baronet thrust upon him a well-filled purse. Inthose days, gentlemen had not the petty vanity of refusing to putthemselves under obligations to one another. Without any affectation ofpride, they readily accepted favors which they knew they would asreadily bestow were conditions reversed.

  So Dick remained Sir Hilary's guest at the hotel that day and night, andthe next morning they took post-horses and rode to Samers, Sir Hilary'sintention being to proceed in a leisurely way, seeing as much countryand drinking as much wine as they could, to Paris. As for Dick,recalling that memorable afternoon's journey of his childhood, heconsidered now that the words of old Tom MacAlister had been those ofan oracle, and that fate designed his road to lead to Paris, whateverplans he might make for himself.

  Moreover, a definite purpose now formed in his mind, which purpose ofitself called him Parisward. In the auberge at Samers, where Sir Hilaryprolonged their stop to try thoroughly the wine of the country, Dickoverheard a conversation between a voluble petit maitre and ashort-gowned Capuchin monk, in which the name of Washington instantlycaught his ear. He soon found that the talk was on the American war, andthat the talkers sympathized with the Americans. He learned that arecent daring blow struck by Washington at Trenton, and another victory,won at Princeton, had offset the effect of the British occupation of NewYork and the British victories connected therewith. He learned, too,that Franklin, a name spoken with as great honor at this little Frenchinn as at home, had come to France as an agent of the Americans, and wasnow with his fellow agent, Mr. Silas Deane, at the Hotel d'Hambourg, inthe Rue l'Universite, in Paris. This news, at which Dick glowedinwardly, gave him the idea of offering his services to Franklin, to beused in any way and in any place proposable.

  That same day the fellow travellers rode on, over the undulating countryof the Boulonnois, by woods and streams, to Montreuil, where they hadto give their names to a polite guard officer at the gates; leaped fromtheir horses at the sign of the Crown of France, paid their post, andtook lodging for the night.

  Sir Hilary promptly ordered a roasted capon, a fricasseed hare, a wildduck, a salad, and a flask of Burgundy, the two gentlemen having chosena table at a window. While they sat eating, they saw drive up to the inna lumbering four-wheeled carriage, which let out a severe, stately,slender old lady, a demure-looking, black-eyed girl of seventeen, and agaunt, gray-haired man-servant, in well-worn livery. Waiting while theold lady oversaw the removal of several ancient portmanteaus, the girllooked with indifferent curiosity at the inn. Her eyes, swiftly moving,met Dick's through the window, and rested a moment,--a moment only, buttime sufficient to give him that sensation which fine eyes, soencountered, usually produce. The girl soon looked elsewhere, the oldlady led the way into the inn, and the carriage moved off. Dick saw nomore of the black-eyed girl that evening, yet he did not forget that shewas under the same roof with him.

  The next morning, at breakfast, Sir Hilary raised the question as towhat means of conveyance they should next take. At that moment, Dick sawthe gray-haired man-servant taking out the ladies' luggage to the Parisdiligence, which great, unshapely vehicle, drawn by gaunt horses, nowstood before the door.

  "What conveyance?" echoed Dick. "How can you ask? Why, the diligence, ofcourse!"

  And there was more haste than Sir Hilary saw the need of, in finishingthe breakfast, paying the bill, and getting Sir Hilary's baggagedown-stairs in time to make sure of not being left behind.

  Dick and Sir Hilary had been aboard some minutes, before the ladiesappeared. Dick leaped out and gave his hand to them, the old lady first,to assist them into the diligence. The old lady bowed, but lookeddistrustful; the girl said, "Merci, monsieur," in a low but appreciativevoice, and turned her eyes on his for a considerable part of a second.Dick took a seat where he could get a view of the girl's face withoutstaring directly at her, and the diligence rumbled off with many aviolent jolt.

  "They call these machines turgotines," said Sir Hilary, alluding to thediligence, and speaking in French purposely to be heard by the otherpassengers, "because they were introduced during the ministry of MonseerTurgot, but if I were Monseer Turgot I shouldn't be proud on thataccount."

  A Picardy abbe replying with a polite question as to stage-coaches inEngland, the conversation soon became general. One of the passengers wasan old lieutenant who had served in Canada, and, through some remark ofhis, the American war became the topic,--a topic at that time held infar greater interest throughout Europe than Dick had imagined it wouldbe. A difference arising among the passengers as to the relativesituations of Boston and Philadelphia, Dick undertook to set them right;but his statement was doubted by the majority. Thereupon, the black-eyedgirl, who had of course kept silent hitherto, spoke out in a somewhatembarrassed manner, confirming Dick's assertion.

  "Thanks, mademoiselle!" said Dick, gratefully. "The word of mademoisellemust be final, ladies and gentlemen,--she is doubtless more recentlyfrom school than any of us."

  Mademoiselle smiled slightly, and said no more, the old lady's lookbeing directed at her in severe rebuke.

  The stop for dinner caused a rearrangement of the passengers as to theplaces in the diligence. Dick now found himself beside the dark-eyedgirl, at whose other hand, in a corner, sat the old lady. At Dick'sother side was Sir Hilary. The ladies' man-servant was outside. Havingdined heavily, Sir Hilary fell asleep before the coach had gone far.And, to Dick's unexpected pleasure, the old lady, after severalpreliminary nods, followed the fox-hunter's example. The otherpassengers became engrossed in the adventures of the lieutenant and thecomic stories of the abbe.

  "Have you ever been in America, mademoiselle," said Dick, softly, "thatyou are so well informed about its towns?"

  "No, monsieur," she answered, in as low a tone as his, "but, as yousaid, I am very recently from school. I have often studied the maps atthe convent I left but yesterday."

  The conversation thus entered upon continued during the whole afternoon,and was marked by an uninterrupted progress in mutual acquaintance andconfidence. Under certain conditions, and between congenial persons, acloser intimacy may be reached in a half day's fellow-travelling thanmay otherwise be attained in a lifetime of occasional meetings. By thetime the diligence neared Abbeville la Pucelle, Dick was the younglady's confidant as to these facts:

  She was leaving her convent school to be married in Paris to a Chevalierof St. Louis, whom she regarded with aversion for the reason th
at he wasalmost old enough to be her grandfather. The marriage had been arrangedby her father, an officer of the regiment of Picardy, whose sister wasthe old lady now taking her to Paris. With such antipathy and dread didthe girl look forward to the marriage, that she had almost dared tomeditate rebellion and flight, for she was not closely attached to herfather, whose military duties kept him away from her, and she inheritedfrom her dead mother a moderate fortune that could not be alienated fromher. But she was under the domination of her aunt, who had helpedarrange the marriage, the girl's father being on service.

  "What else can I do?" she asked Dick, helplessly. "I dare not disobey myaunt, I have not the courage to resist her. I have felt like one halfdead, since I left the convent, and in that condition I shall be ledpassively through it all, till I find myself--oh, how can I endure it?"

  "You shall not!" said Dick, with impulsive eagerness to play thechivalrous part. "You must not! I will save you from the intolerablefate!"

  The girl looked at him in wonder. "If you could!" she whispered slowly,half in despair, half in newly risen hope.

  At that moment, the diligence coming to a stop at the post inn atAbbeville, the aunt showed signs of waking. "Rely on me, I shall notdesert you!" whispered Dick, and then very gallantly stooped andrestored a handkerchief dropped by the aunt in the act of waking.

  That evening, while Sir Hilary celebrated in many bumpers the beauty ofthe girls of Abbeville, Dick thought over the situation of her whoseeyes made the Abbeville virgins colorless and uninteresting. The onlypracticable way for her to avoid the marriage was by physical flight.She might become a nun, but Dick could not tolerate the idea of so muchcharm buried for life in a convent, and she herself had not spoken ofsuch a refuge. She might have friends or relations who would shelter andconceal her in her rebellion. But if this were not the case she wouldhave only the protection and guidance of Dick, and there was but onecondition on which she could accept those with safety to her honor.Well, Dick was not a man to turn back after having given his assurance;the girl was certainly charming and amiable, she had a small fortune toensure her own comfort, and the thought of her perturbing glancesreserved exclusively for some other man filled Dick with a kind ofchagrin. Moreover, her name was Collette, and she looked the name.

  The next day he got no chance to speak to her until the afternoon. Then,protected as before by the slumbering aunt on one side and the drowsybaronet on the other, the young people resumed their conversation. Wasshe still as much opposed to the marriage as ever? Oh, decidedly, farmore so!--with a little terrified look at Dick. Had she any friends towhom she might go? None who would not betray her. No refuge whatever inmind? None whatever. Would she risk her father's displeasure and heraunt's, provided there were some one to stand between her and thatdispleasure? Why, yes, if such a situation were possible,--anythingrather than the marriage. Would she be resigned to a marriage with ayounger gentleman? Why, yes, if--that is to say--if--

  "If," said Dick, in low tones, but with all due signs of feeling, "ifthe gentleman were an American, carried from his country by the wind ofcircumstance, with nothing in the world but the clothes on his back,a few louis in his pocket, and some land in the wilderness ofPennsylvania, but with a prospect of honorable employment for hiscountry on reaching Paris, and with a hand that could be turned toanything and would ever be devoted to your honor and happiness?"

  She raised her eyes, which had been lowered, and in meeting his theirjetty brilliance took a humid softness as she answered, gently, "Is itof yourself that you speak, monsieur?"

  So it was agreed upon, while the diligence rumbled past a gentlehillside crowned by a fair chateau flanked by oak woods. When they camein sight of the oak-topped ramparts of Amiens, their plans werecomplete. Dick was to have a hired carriage and post-horses ready nearthe inn, and Collette was to join him at the inn door as soon as heraunt and the servant should be abed. Riding all night and part of thenext day, they could defy pursuit, and carry out their purpose atleisure. Though they should continue towards Paris, there would be nodanger of being overtaken, especially by the diligence, which, becauseof bad weather and bad roads, was then making smaller than the usualdaily stages, as any one acquainted with the country traversed will haveseen. Dick preferred not yet to take Sir Hilary into confidence; he knewwhere to communicate with the baronet in due time in Paris.

  Amiens was a large town with fine streets of well-built houses, and witha beautiful cathedral containing the head of John the Baptist; but Dickhad no eye for these things on this occasion. At the inn Sir Hilary mettwo officers of the regiment of the Prince of Conde, on leave, and wassoon lost in conversation and champagne, so that Dick was free to makehis arrangements.

  Fortunately, the purse pressed upon Dick by the baronet in Boulogne wasstill nearly full. He obtained a carriage from the diligence company,and two horses and a postilion from the postman at the inn. Soon aftersupper, while he paced before the inn door, in the cold evening, thecloaked and hooded figure of Collette appeared from within, noiselessly;whereupon he took her hand, and the pair hastened like ghosts to thewaiting carriage, which rattled away with them a minute later. Atwenty-four-sous piece, handed to the sentinel, caused the city gates,which had been closed for the night, to fly open, and the jack-bootedpostilion was soon swearing and singing, and whipping his horses, in theopen country, on the road to Chantilly. Inside the carriage, the twoyoung people sat silent, the girl perhaps trembling now and then atthought of the leap she had taken into the unknown, Dick somewhatsobered at the responsibility he had so speedily assumed. But he was, asusual, ready for anything, and often he pressed her hand to reassureher.

  It was the night of Thursday, February 27, 1777. Evening had set in withincreasing cold and a howling wind. Engrossed in their thoughts, Dickand Collette for two or three hours noticed not that the wind wasconstantly gaining in force and fury. Suddenly the carriage stopped,there was a brief wait, and the door was flung open.

  "It is impossible to go farther to-night, monsieur," said the postilion,thrusting in his head. "One of the horses has cast a shoe and is verylame."

  "But we _must_ go on," said Dick. "It is a matter of life and death."

  "It is simply impossible," said the postilion, stubbornly.

  "It cannot be impossible. Have I not paid half the post hire inadvance?"

  "Monsieur can go on, in the morning. There is an auberge a littledistance ahead, where he and madame can pass the night. I will find asmith and have the horse shod in time to set out early."

  "Are you sure it is the lameness of the horse, that moves you, or adesire to get indoors from the cold?" queried Dick.

  "Monsieur l'Anglois has the privilege of thinking as it may please him.Will he have me drive to the auberge, or will he remain here in the roadall night?"

  "Let him drive to the auberge, for heaven's sake!" whispered Collette,somewhat terrified.

  The auberge, when reached, proved to be a miserable hut of threeapartments,--stable, kitchen, and common sleeping-room. The host and hiswife, visible by light of candle and by kitchen fire, were anevil-looking pair.

  "Oh," said Collette, drawing back from the doorway, "I can never stayhere!"

  "There is no other place," said the postilion, with an impudent grin.

  "I will find another place," said Dick, beginning to feel ugly towardsthe postilion. "I see a light on the hill yonder. It comes from thewindow of a chateau. Such a house will not refuse us hospitality, myCollette! You will drive us to that house, fellow!" And Dick liftedMademoiselle Collette into the carriage.

  "I will not drive one step!" said the postilion, insolently, with acareless crack of his whip.

  Dick looked at the fellow a moment, strode up to him, wrenched the whipfrom his hand by an unexpected movement, and struck him two quick blowsacross the face with it.

  "Drive us to that house!" said Dick.

  The postilion mounted, without a word, and Dick, retaining the whip,joined Collette inside the carriage.

  At the
chateau, while Collette remained in the carriage, Dick got out tospeak to the servant who opened the door in response to the postilion'sknock. Dick so framed his message to the master of the house, that thelatter himself came to the door, Dick remaining outside to guardCollette and the carriage. The master of the house, lighted by thecandles in the entrance-hall, was an elderly gentleman, tall andslender, with a bright eye and a face at once kindly, distinguished, andintellectual.

  "Monsieur," said Dick, in as good French as he could command, "acircumstance has made it impossible for me to continue to-night ajourney I began in that carriage a few hours ago. The only inn near athand is one where it would be equally impossible for the lady whom Ihave the honor to protect, to pass the night. The lady is now in thecarriage, and--"

  "Monsieur need say no more," replied the gentleman, in a most courteousand sympathetic tone. "My house shall be the lady's inn and your own.There is no hostess yet to welcome her, but fortunately there is a maid,whom I shall send immediately. As for you, monsieur, when you have seenthe lady cared for, Etienne will show you, if you choose, to the room inwhich I shall be at supper. The lady will doubtless prefer to sup in herown apartment."

  "I thank you, monsieur, but we have supped already. I will do myself thehonor to join you, nevertheless, and make myself better acquainted withso courteous a gentleman."

  The gentleman smiled, bowed, and disappeared through an inner door. Dickreturned to Collette.

  "A maid will come for you in a moment," said he. "Our host is a mostcharming gentleman, both in act and in appearance."

  "I did not look out of the carriage to see him," said Collette, takingDick's hand and stepping to the ground. "Why, how strange that I shouldbe a guest at this house! I recognize it now. It is one that I haveoften noticed while riding past in the road below. I have always wishedI might live in it."

  A maid now appeared at the doorway. Collette took leave of Dick for thenight, saying she desired nothing further and would defer till morningher meeting with the master of the house. Dick thereupon sent theshivering postilion, with horses, carriage, and whip, back to theauberge, and asked Etienne, the servant who had let him in, and whostill stood in the entrance-hall, to show him to the supper table.

  In a richly furnished room, softly lighted by wax candles, and warmed byfragrant fagots in a small fireplace, he found his considerate hostseated at a well-filled table, opposite a round-faced priest, stillunder middle age, who beamed with merriment and good nature. Dickannounced his name, and was thereupon introduced to the Abbe Foyard bythe master of the house, who then said:

  "Monsieur will pardon me, I am sure, if I adhere--merely for the sake ofhabit--to the incognito I am preserving in this neighborhood at present.I do not wish my name to get abroad as the new purchaser of thisestate."

  "My obligations are no less for my not knowing to whom they are due,monsieur," said Dick, taking the seat to which his host motioned him, atthe table. He would eat nothing, but he would drink some wine, and hejoined in a toast of Burgundy, proposed by the Abbe, with a twinklingeye, to "Madame la Comtesse that is to be."

  From the fact that in the ensuing conversation the Abbe addressed themaster of the house as Monsieur le Comte, Dick soon understood thetoast, the Abbe's look of sly merriment, and the half pleased, halfchiding expression of the Count himself. The bottle went round often,and the talk became unconstrained. Dick made it known that he was anAmerican, whereupon he was plied with many questions concerning the war,and particularly concerning the personality of Washington. The Countthen said he had seen that great philosopher, Franklin, in Paris,honored by beautiful women and celebrated men, among whom he appeared inhis plain coat, as if the simplicity of the ancient sages had been inhim revived.

  "It is in the hope of meeting him," said Dick, "that I am now on the wayto Paris."

  "Then you have a pleasure very near at hand," said the Count.

  "I trust it is near at hand," said Dick. "It may be delayed by anothermatter that must intervene,--also a pleasure."

  "You speak and look as if it were a matter of some doubt or difficulty,"said the Count. "If I can be of assistance--"

  "I thank you, monsieur, but it is a matter in which the aid of Monsieurl'Abbe would be more to the point."

  "Command me, monsieur," put in the Abbe. "My aid is for whoever asksit."

  "I begin to understand," said the Count, with a kindly smile. "The ladyin the carriage--"

  "Precisely," said Dick. "Monsieur le Comte is very penetrating."

  "Oh, no, very stupid, usually," said the Count. "But at present there isa reason why my perception is keen wherever a love affair or a marriageis concerned."

  "Then it is true, as the toast of Monsieur l'Abbe indicated, that youalso are about to achieve happiness? We have to felicitate each other!"

  "Yes, it is true. And so great is my happiness that I would have thewhole world happy at the same time. I was saying this to the Abbe onlyan hour ago, and wishing for opportunities to make others similarlyhappy, when, behold, the good God grants my wish by sending you to mydoor. You would have the aid of the Abbe, you say? Very well. I use thepower I have over the Abbe's actions, through his affection for me, tocompel his aid in your behalf."

  "But that is not necessary," said the Abbe. "You know I dote uponrunaway matches. I need not apologize, Monsieur Wetheral,--one caneasily see, by the circumstances, that yours is a runaway match. It istherefore a love match."

  "You are right, Monsieur l'Abbe. The young lady was to have beensacrificed, according to the custom that prevails everywhere but in mycountry. Her horror at the match arranged for her would have distressedyou, gentlemen, if you could have witnessed it."

  "I am sure it would have distressed me," said the Count. "But it is nowaverted, and need be thought of no more. The Abbe shall perform yourmarriage before you leave my roof, under which you are safe from allpursuit."

  "Imagine Monsieur le Comte aiding and abetting a runaway marriage a yearago!" said the Abbe, with a roguish smile.

  "The Abbe is right, young gentleman. A year ago I should no more havethought of violating a universal custom of our civilization than ofjoining a conspiracy against the King. But a year ago I had not loved. Iknew not what it might be for a man to see the woman he loved given intothe possession of another. I now consider love as having first right. Itis to be obeyed against all other considerations. Moreover, if I now doLove a service in aiding this match of yours, Love will owe me a favor.It may repay me by--giving me--" The Count ceased talking, and sighed.

  "Monsieur le Comte has a strange fancy he does not receive back as muchlove as he bestows," explained the Abbe, gently. "He does not allow forthe lady's youth, which makes her naturally shy and undemonstrative inhis presence."

  "I am sure there can be no reason for his fancy," said Dick, glancingwith genuine admiration at the singularly noble and gentle countenanceof his host.

  "And if there were," said the Abbe, noting that the Count still lookedpensive, "what woman's heart could continue long unsusceptible to suchmunificence? What think you of this chateau, with its princely parks, asa wedding present, monsieur,--a little surprise, after the jewels, thehouse in Paris, and the other trinkets shall have been surveyed? Do younot think that, if anything be wanting to make the lady's heart respond,it will be supplied when she is told that she is mistress of this house,which, as Monsieur le Comte has learned, she has coveted since herchildhood?"

  Dick's thought that the Abbe knew less of how women are constituted thanabbes are supposed to know, was suddenly driven out by anotherthought,--that it was strange two young ladies should both have covetedthis chateau since childhood.

  "You now understand," said the Count to Dick, "my desire to remainunknown as the purchaser of this place. I would not have the news reachher ears and spoil the surprise. And I congratulate myself on beinghere, superintending the last alterations, and on having brought theAbbe with me as company; for that your love match may be somewhatfacilitated through us. Come, Abbe, rej
oice with me that we are enabledto serve love, and to baffle those who would do it violence! Whatgreater crime can there be than to force a girl to a marriage ofinterest? Your rival, monsieur, will deserve his discomfiture! I shouldreally like to witness his chagrin. To conspire selfishly, with a younggirl's natural protectors, against her happiness! Yes, it pleases me tothink how crestfallen he will be! Monsieur, you have drunk already to myfuture countess; let us drink now to the lady whom the Abbe shall uniteto you in this house at whatever time she may select!"

  The toast was drunk heartily, and Dick, letting his eyes rove lazilyamong the many signs of wealth and luxurious comfort in the room,inwardly contrasted the possible future of the girl whose fate he was totake in charge, with that of her whose destiny was to be in the keepingof the rich and generous Count.

  "To think that her house should serve the romantic purpose of a runawaylove match!" said the Count, with a smile. "It will amuse Collette."

  Dick turned pale. "Collette!" he echoed. "You said Collette!"

  "That is the first name of the lady who is to be my wife," explainedthe Count. "Why does it startle you?"

  "Oh, because I have heard that name so recently. My own fiancee has afriend of that name,--a schoolmate, at a convent somewhere nearMontreuil."

  "'Tis the very same!" cried the Count, with great pleasure. "To think,Abbe, that we should be of service to one of her friends! That surelywill delight her!"

  "But," faltered Dick, "is it certain? There may be two of that name atthe same convent. The one of whom I speak has left it very recently,with her aunt--"

  "It is she!" said the Count, more and more rejoiced at corroborativedetails. "She ought to be at this moment at Abbeville or Amiens, on theway to Paris to be married. She will pass this house and look up at it,wishing it were hers, as she has so often done, and never dreaming I amhere making it ready for her! Yes, there can be no doubt, it is the sameCollette,--Mademoiselle de Sarton!"

  When Dick was shown to a round chamber in a turret-shaped corner of thechateau that night, he asked for pen, ink, and paper, saying he alwayswrote his letters late. By the light of a small candelabra, and aftermuch thought and many beginnings, he composed two documents before hewent to bed.

  At earliest dawn he dressed and went down-stairs, told the only servanthe found up that he was going for a short walk, and left with theservant the two letters, each to be taken to the chamber of its intendedrecipient. Then Dick hastened to the auberge where his horses andpostilion had passed the night.

  One letter was to Collette, and read as follows:

  "MADEMOISELLE:

  "You are now in your own house, which you have so long wished to possess. Its master, the noblest, kindest, and handsomest gentleman in the world, with boundless will and means to make you happy, is he from whom I, a worthless adventurer with neither possessions nor prospects, would have taken you, in my ignorance and folly. You should thank God for your escape and for giving you a husband such as Monsieur le Comte, whose years have but added to his graces and his merits. I have written him to such effect that he will understand all, and that, when he comes to greet you, nothing will be necessary on your part but for you to give him your hand, and offer your brow for the caress which a princess might be rejoiced and honored to receive."

  The other letter was to the Count himself, and, whatever it contained,there is plentiful record, in the family history of the Counts deRollincourt, to show that it accomplished its purpose. By the time theaunt of Mlle. de Sarton reached the newly bought estate of the Count deRollincourt, in mad search of her fugitive niece, servants were inwaiting at the road to conduct her to the chateau, where her amazementto find the Count in possession was promptly doubled on seeing Colletteinstalled as mistress,--for, if the Count's little surprise was spoiled,his plan of having the Abbe Foyard perform an impromptu marriage wascarried out, after all.

  Meanwhile, long before this happy issue of affairs, Dick Wetheral hadroused the cowed postilion and set out on horseback towards Paris,leaving the carriage to be taken back when the postilion should return.Dismissing this postilion at the first post, he took new horses, and,riding all day, despite weather and bad roads, he arrived at evening atSt. Denis, and dismounted at the principal inn,--tired, hungry, andbespattered with mud. Before going to bed, he sent for a servant to givehis clothes a thorough cleaning, that he might in the morning make histriumphal entry into Paris in a state of attire befitting so importantan event. When his head rested on the pillow, it was with a pleasantthrill at the realization that his road, roundabout as it had been, hadindeed led him to the very portals of Paris, and that it would take himacross those portals on the early morrow.

  He little knew in what manner he was to cross those portals, how he wasto pass through the city yet see it not, and what a vast loop his roadwas to describe, over strange perils and through wild heart-burnings,ere it should land him in Paris with free feet and open eyes.