"You don't see? well, I do! It's first one thing, then another--no end to the whims. You don't suppose that they have stayed in their little cabin this whole month, do you? I can safely tell you, now, that Frederic proposed to hire an apartment for the girl."

"But, monsieur le baron, did you not point out to him----"

"He's old enough to do as he pleases. However, don't get excited; I'll see him. I'll go alone first, so as not to anger him, and, if he is willing to listen to me, I'll bring him back. But, meanwhile, we must live. How much money have you?"

"About thirty francs."

"That isn't much; but if we are economical, it will last us some time; we shall have to live very sparingly; but that will do us good. These big dinners overheat our blood; it's very unhealthy to eat five or six rich dishes and drink several kinds of wine every day."

"Still, monsieur le baron, I am inclined to think that we were both getting fat at Monsieur Chambertin's."

"True; but that would have turned out badly for us; simple fare will check this tendency to corpulence. The pleasures of Capua enervated the Carthaginians; and Monsieur Chambertin's table would probably have produced the same effect on us, and I should have been distressed. I really must resume my incognito."

"Ah! I agree with you this time, monsieur le baron; for if those Turks should find you----"

"That's the reason why I think it wouldn't be prudent to return to Gren.o.ble, where I might be arrested--I should say, kidnapped by those cutthroats. Besides, having no money, we should be ill received by our host, who would claim, I dare swear, that his carriage is worth more than ours. We will avoid pa.s.sing through the town, and with your thirty francs we will take lodgings in some little village."

"But when that's all gone, monsieur le baron?"

"Parbleu! then we'll see; there's no use of worrying beforehand.

Frederic can write to his father."

"I am afraid monsieur le comte will be angry----"

"I will write to my aunt."

"To your aunt, monsieur le baron?"

"I should say, to my steward. At all events, we will find some way out of it. Besides, suppose we should groan and moan--would that help matters at all? So let us make the best of it. Come, it's a superb night, and we have had a good rest--let's push on. Faith! there's nothing like travelling on foot, if you want to admire the landscape.

Come, my dear Menard, summon your courage! Since we have been together, we have had lots of ups and downs; have you ever seen me mope?"

"Ah! monsieur le baron, everybody isn't as philosophical as you are."

"I will train you. Think of the misfortunes of Marius, Hannibal, Prince Edward; of the poverty of the grand-daughter of Henri IV; of the woes of Marguerite of Anjou; and of all the other people who have found themselves in much more difficult positions than ours--and complain again, if you dare!"

The travellers resumed their journey. Dubourg was a curious sight in his full dress, starched ruff, and thin pumps, walking beside Menard, who wore silk short-clothes, black stockings, and buckled shoes, and who was compelled, in that costume, to climb hills, jump ditches, and plod along over ground that, at the best, was very uneven. Luckily, they had taken their hats when they went out to see the fireworks, otherwise they would have had to traverse Dauphine as if they were calling on their neighbors.

At daybreak, they stopped at a peasant's house and obtained breakfast.

Dubourg ordered an omelet and some native wine. They ate their repast under an arbor, surrounded by domestic animals who came to keep them company.

"How pleasant it is in the open air!" said Dubourg; "are all the gilded halls and antechambers on earth equal to this open country--to the perfect liberty which is ours at this moment?"

"It is certain," rejoined Menard, driving away a big cat that persisted in putting its paws in his plate, "it is certain that we are entirely at liberty here,--that there is no suspicion of restraint---- Well, well, here's the dog now, trying to get my bread!"

"Well, Monsieur Menard, every creature must live. In the time of our first parents, these innocent beasts shared their masters' meals; the lion ate from the hand of man, and the tiger gambolled at his feet."

"You must agree, monsieur le baron, that those animals have changed greatly in their disposition."

"Never mind; I love everything that recalls those days of innocence.

When I look at this hen walking on our table, and this duck splashing in the mud at our feet, I fancy that I am living in the Age of Gold. Not until I feel in my pocket do I realize the delusion."

Unluckily, the eggs in the omelet were not fresh, and the wine was sour; Menard made a wry face at every mouthful and every swallow, while Dubourg said:

"I know of no healthier food than an omelet. Whatever country you travel in, wherever you may be, if there are eggs, you have an omelet!

Everybody knows how to make it; it's a universal dish, the dish of nature."

"If only the eggs were fresh!"

"Faith! this little taste of straw isn't unpleasant; at need, it will take the place of tarragon. And this wine--at all events, I'll guarantee that it won't do us any harm."

"It's infernally sour!"

"A proof that it's unadulterated."

Despite all that Dubourg could say to make Menard approve of the breakfast, the tutor said, as they left the table:

"I think that we must go to hunt up Monsieur Frederic de Montreville."

And Dubourg said to himself:

"He'll receive me cordially, when he knows that I have broken the bank again in less than a month! How in the devil am I to get out of the sc.r.a.pe? And how am I going to ask him for anything, when he gave it all to me? I can't go and preach to him--that isn't in my line. Indeed, I think that I shall have to induce Menard to come and live in the woods with me; we will become hermits, and I won't play ecarte any more."

The travellers made a detour round Gren.o.ble, without entering the city.

They halted in a small village, and Menard spoke again of joining Frederic. Dubourg lost his patience, and told him that he would go alone to Vizille to see what he could learn. He left the village, walked as far as a small patch of forest, lay down on the gra.s.s, slept there all day, and at night returned to Menard, holding his handkerchief to his eyes and sighing as if his heart were broken.

"Well, well! what in heaven's name has happened to him?" inquired the tutor, anxiously.

"The ingrate! the harebrained fool!"

"Speak, monsieur le baron, I entreat you!"

"I suspected that he would do some insane thing. He has gone off with his fair one. They left the forest a fortnight ago."

"Great heaven! what will monsieur le comte say? what answer shall I make him, when he asks me what I have done with his son?"

"You must tell him that you lost him."

"Do you believe, monsieur le baron, that such an answer will satisfy him?"

"Then you can tell him that he lost himself. But be calm, my dear Menard. I promise you that we will find Frederic again. I have friends in all the courts of Europe; the young man will be restored to us."

This promise pacified poor Menard to some extent, and Dubourg continued:

"Before we consider what to do about him, let us think of ourselves, for our position is not very splendid. We shall not find resources in this wretched village; let us go to the nearest town; and, above all things, my dear Menard, do try to get rid of that heart-broken look, which will inspire an exceedingly unfavorable opinion of us in every inn at which we stop."

The travellers resumed their journey, and at nightfall arrived at Voreppe, a small town about two leagues from Gren.o.ble. Dubourg inquired for the best inn, and went thither with his companion. They entered the common-room, Dubourg with his head in the air and a determined bearing, Menard with downcast eyes and a very modest mien.

Several guests were talking together in the room, awaiting the supper hour.