Long before I had finished these reflections and the reading of the letters, the _maître d'hôtel_, who, as I have said, supplied Houssaye's place, had done his part in undressing me; and soon, after ordering my horse to be ready early, I dismissed him and slept. Before closing this chapter, however, I must remark that, for many reasons, I had restricted to the safe guardianship of my own breast the various reasons that led me to suppose the Marquis de St. Brie had instigated the attack under which I had so nearly fallen. The suspicions of both my parents turned naturally in that direction; but I well knew that if my father had possessed half the knowledge which I did upon the subject, he would have allowed no consideration to prevent his pursuing the Marquis with the most determined vengeance, to the destruction, perhaps, of all parties. I therefore merely described the attack, but withheld the circumstances which preceded it; and though there are few actions in a man's life which do not either afford him regret or disappointment, this piece of prudence is amongst the scanty number I have never had cause to wish undone. CHAPTER XVI. I slept soundly, and I rose refreshed, although my hands were very stiff, and my head was not without its pains from the rude treatment that each had undergone. No one in the house was up when I woke, and saddling my own horse as well as I could, I left word with the old gardener that I should return before the hour of breakfast, and set out for Lourdes. If I was not always very considerate in forming my resolutions, as the wise axiom recommends, I was certainly not slow in executing them; and I now proceeded at full speed to fulfil my determination of the night before in regard to the Chevalier. Stopping at Arnault's house, I threw myself off my horse, and entered his _étude_, which appeared to be just opened; nor did the least doubt enter my mind that the person I sought was still there. The first thing, however, that I perceived was the enormous head of the old procureur himself, looking through the sort of barred screen that surrounded his writing-table, like some strange beast in a menagerie. I was not very much inclined to treat this incubus of the law with any great civility on my own account, as I was aware that, for some reason to himself best known, he bore me no extraordinary love; but as Helen's father, he commanded other feelings, and I therefore addressed him as politely as I could. In answer to my inquiries for the Chevalier, he bowed most profoundly, replying that the Monsieur de Montenero would be quite in despair when he found that I had come to honour him with a visit only five minutes after his departure. "What! is he gone already?" cried I. "When did he go?--where did he go to?"