by the news, for we should have liked to have
feted our beloved President."

"It is strange," I said. "Are you sure of
this?"

"Am I sure? A word with you, my dear
English coadjutor. Take my advice; go to
Luneville to-morrow, by the President's train;
you will have good opportunities of seeing him;
moreover, you like quickness. There will be no
delays; the train will be sure to go at express
speed."

I had already determined to go to Luneville
to-morrow, and, canard or not, I might as well
go by the President's train, both for speed and
safety. If the story were a mere provincial on
dit, the train would be real enough.

I decided to go, and told M. Rouget so. The
train was the 4.30 P.M. train, that would bring
me into Luneville about daybreak, and give me
a long day for the survey.

I never saw any one so exhilarated as M.
Rouget seemed to be at my decision. He rubbed
his skeleton hands; his eyes shot out a green
light, as if they had been moderators, with the
lights newly screwed up; he said " Good!" three
times, and then, advancing towards me, shook
both my hands.

"Now, my dear sir," he said, " before I wish
you good night for I must work till midnight
— frankly, did you not begin to think me slow?"

"Well, I did."

"Ah! You do not understand the ways of
us French lawyers; we begin slowly, and end
by storm. Let me assure you, on my word of
honour, that the day you return from Luneville
shall see our affairs assume a very different
shape. Mon Dieu! How easily I forgive a
zeal so honest, an impatience so natural, in such
a cause, on the part of a young practitioner.
Good night— au plaisir— au revoir! I meet you
to-morrow at the station. I may be of use to
you, and I want to see your beloved fellow-
passenger. I am proud to be of the least service
to you, monsieur; there is no obligation on your
side. Good night. God have you in his keeping!"

My suspicions began to thaw. " Those friends
of Eloïse are," I thought to myself, " prejudiced
— no prejudice like country-town prejudice— I
will not believe them. No rogue would have
rejoiced at my going to Luneville, to see matters
and collect witnesses, for myself. M. Rouget is a
pedant, but no rogue. The Luneville people have,
perhaps, confounded Rouget with Gouffet."

I went to bed and slept soundly, and yet even
through my dreams there buzzed a reviving
distrust of the reanimated corpse. And the words
of Eloïse's letter rose before my eyes, as if they
had been written with phosphorus.

Tuesday, the seventh of November, was a
beautiful autunn morning. The sky was pale,
but clear and radiant. The beech-leaves glowed
dusky-orange in the sun; the birds, those little
spendthrifts of the moment, sang, heedless of
coming winter; the yellow lime-leaves blew
gaily round the children playing in the public
walks of Châlons; the dew hung in quicksilver
drops on the kail plants in the garden of the
Hotel of the Red Eagle. My day passed in
writing letters. Eloise, my ward, was to be
married in January. I had to further matters,
and to write to Captain Mason, her intended,
who would be detained at Malta until Christmas.
An early dinner, and a sfiort preliminary walk
along the banks of the Marne, soon brought
round the time for the 4.30 train. By a few
minutes past four, I was in the station,
superintending the pasting a blue label, inscribed
"Luneville," on my solitary trunk.

"Now," thought I to myself, still suspicion-
haunted," I will go to Eloise's friends at
Luneville, as soon as I set foot in the place; I will
ascertain at once what grounds they have for
bringing these strange charges against a man
like—"

A corpse-like hand touched my shoulder; it
was M. Rouget's. He was cold and taciturn as
ever.

"Come, come." he said, " take your ticket
before the Unknown comes; he will be here soon."

The lawyer glided before me with soundless
feet, and a haste and energy unusual in him.
We came to the grated aperture Where tickets
were given out.

"One first-class ticket to Luneville," I said.

The clerk made no answer, but looked at M.
Rouget.

I repeated my request.

"Not by the 4.30 train?" said the cleric,
interrogatively, to M. Rouget.

"Yes, yes! I tell you, by this train, by this
train. Why not this train?" replied M. Rouget,
angrily, and thrusting a card, with some writing
on it, towards the clerk.

The clerk muttered something, drew a ticket
from a pigeon-hole, stamped it, handed it to
me, raked in the money I paid, bestowed
another peculiar look on M. Rouget, and sat down
and continued his perusal of the newspaper.

"The poor fellow," said M. Rouget, seeing
me surprised, " is brother to one of those clerks
who have been arrested at Rosières, and he has
been to me about the affair to-day. I advised
him to take no steps. But hush, here comes the
President!"

At that moment three close carriages drove
up to the station gate, and two gentlemen
wrapped in military cloaks, their faces hidden by
high fur collars, leaped lightly out, and hurrying
across the platform, entered a first-class
carriage; four others, in ordinary travellers'
dress, went to take tickets for the whole party.

The passengers for the train were numerous.
They were already taking tickets, disputing
about change, buying newspapers, securing
seats, ebbing to and fro. M. Rouget had already
directed my trunk to be put under the seat of
a carriage— four from the luggage-van— for, he
said, that was the safest place in the train, and
with the least vibration. He was so cordial and
anxious for my comfort, that I could not help
thanking him.