"Certainly," observed Frederic, with a mischievous glance at Dubourg and Goton, "you need a change of clothing now; you must have fallen while you were in the barn."

Dubourg looked at him with an expression that signified: "I don't know why you need have called attention to that!" as he replied:

"I certainly didn't go in like a lamb; ask Goton how the rascal handled me!"

"Oh! yes," said the servant, "he threw you down more'n four times."

"At all events, my friend, my wardrobe is at your service," said Frederic.

"And mine too, monsieur le baron," added Menard, bowing to Dubourg; and he went back to his room to finish dressing, the baron having promised to go and lodge a complaint with the mayor.

Frederic's postilion came at last to inform the travellers that the chaise was ready. Menard came down from his room, thanking heaven that they were to leave that inn, which had been so disastrous to them. Goton came down behind him, and whispered to Dubourg:

"One of your friends ain't very well brought up; a man of his age do such things as that! If my little brother did it, he'd get a licking."

In two words, Dubourg learned what had happened; he could not help laughing at the catastrophe, for which he was responsible; while Menard glared angrily at the servant, who put out her tongue at him, shrugged her shoulders, and followed him about, saying in an undertone:

"For shame! what a dirty trick! a man fifty years old! who ain't learned to be clean!"

The carriage awaited the travellers, and they took their seats with much satisfaction: Dubourg, overjoyed to be rid of his berlin; Menard, impatient to leave Goton and the inn, for which he had conceived an intense aversion; and Frederic, because he was much more comfortable in the roomy, well-hung post chaise than in monsieur le baron's wretched berlin.

Menard sighed once or twice for the seat that the Princess of Hungary had occupied; but he still had to console him the King of Prussia's snuff-box, and the prospect of drinking tokay from Tekely's cellar.

VI

THE LITTLE WOOD

Our travellers reached the next village without mishap, and stopped there to breakfast. Menard admired the tranquillity with which their n.o.ble companion bore the twofold loss of his carriage and his fifty thousand francs.

"I am a philosopher, Monsieur Menard," said Dubourg; "and I care little for money; indeed, I think that I should prefer mediocrity to a too exalted station: _Magna servitus est magna fortuna_."

"You are no ordinary man, my dear Dubourg," said Frederic; "there are so many people whose philosophy does not outlast their prosperity, like the coward who boasts of his courage when the danger has pa.s.sed."

"I certainly am not ambitious," rejoined Menard; "and I know how to bow to circ.u.mstances; but I consider that it requires great strength of mind to give up without regret a good table and a good bed; and when I say a good bed, I don't mean a high one."

Dubourg observed that when they had breakfasted it was Monsieur Menard who paid the bill.

"Don't you carry the purse?" he asked Frederic, in an undertone.

"No; my father gave the funds to Menard."

"The devil! that's a nuisance. What will he think, when he sees that I never pay?"

"Why, after your saying that you had been robbed, did you add that you still had fifteen thousand francs in your pocket?"

"Oh! why, why! because I wanted to play the great man, and not let your companion imagine that you would pay my expenses."

"I don't dare to ask Menard for the money; I should be afraid of hurting his feelings."

"Never fear; I'll undertake to make him turn it over of his own motion."

"How?"

"You will see."

"When you hold the purse-strings, don't play the swell too much; remember that we shall not have any more for a long while."

"Can it be that you believe that I am still a rattle-head and gambler, as I was in Paris? No, my dear Frederic, I am too well pleased to be travelling with you, to make a fool of myself; I tell you again, I mean to be a second Mentor."

"Yes; your performance in the cow-barn is a very promising beginning."

"Oh! but I had to invent some lie to account for the berlin."

"And that made it necessary to lock yourself in there with Mademoiselle Goton! you ne'er-do-well!"

"Bah! don't make yourself out such a Cato! If Mademoiselle Goton had had melancholy eyes and a sentimental cast of countenance, you would have gone with her to pasture the cows."

"Well, at all events, I beg you not to do so much gasconading with poor Menard, who believes every word; for, to remove any possible suspicion from his mind, I have taken pains to tell him that I know your family intimately, and that you are highly esteemed in Paris."

"You have done very well. I only tell him as much as I think necessary to carry out my part; you don't seem to remember that I call myself a Polish n.o.bleman."

"That's the reason, I suppose, that you talk about nothing but Bretagne!"

The travellers resumed their journey. Before reaching the town where they proposed to pa.s.s the night, they had to ride through a dense forest; and Dubourg, who had his scheme all prepared, began operations by giving a serious turn to the conversation, for he was well aware that one's frame of mind adds to or takes from the size of objects, and that in real life, as on the stage, one must know how to prepare and lead up to situations, in order that they may produce the greatest effect.

"I know nothing more delightful than travelling," said Dubourg; "why is it that one's pleasure must always be lessened by the thought that some unfortunate accident may upset all one's plans?"

"It is so with all the pleasures of life," rejoined Frederic; "can you name one upon which we can rely for the morrow? It is a great joy to be loved by the woman you adore; but when you feel sure that you are not indifferent to her, when you rely on her heart and her oaths, some young Adonis appears, who fascinates her; some handsome soldier, who turns her head; some scintillating wit, who charms her mind--and that woman, faithful until then, betrays you at the very moment that you feel most confident of her love. Alas! the happiness of our whole future often depends only upon some trivial circ.u.mstance, and crumbles and falls like a house built of cards."

"Monsieur de Montreville talks very wisely," said Menard; "we are often sadly disappointed in our hopes; how many times have I dined at a famous restaurant, when the soup was a failure!"

"A philosopher endures such disasters, in fortune, in love, or in pleasure," said Dubourg; "but there are things against which even philosophy cannot prevail; as, for instance, being attacked and murdered by brigands on the highroad."

These words made Menard shudder; his face lengthened, his expression became anxious, and he turned to Dubourg, whose features wore a gloomy look in which there was nothing rea.s.suring.

"Such affairs are, in truth, very unpleasant for travellers. They say, monsieur le baron, that travelling is very dangerous in Italy. You have travelled so much, that you can probably tell us."

"Unquestionably there are brigands in Italy, Monsieur Menard. The peculiarity of that country is that the roads are most dangerous at noon, for no one but the brigands dares to face the hot sun at that time of day. However, if there are highway robbers in the Apennines and in Germany and England, unfortunately there's no lack of them in France.

It's quite as dangerous now to travel in France."

"What! in France, monsieur le baron? I thought that the roads were perfectly safe."

"Then you don't read the papers, Monsieur Menard?"