While thus occupied, two or three people came in and went out again; but one person remained, spoke a few words to the waiter, seated himself in a chair on one side of the long wooden board which served as a very unornamental dinner-table, and taking up one of the public papers, began to read. After a time I gave a glance at him, and I thought I recognized the features. A second look showed me that I had seen him more than once before in various towns of France. I had even a faint recollection of having met him in good society in England. So it proved; for a short time after, the stranger’s eye turned upon me, and he immediately remembered me. Our acquaintance, previously, had been confined to a few words, and an occasional bow when we met; but here we were seated together in a dull inn, in a dull town in Brittany—cast as it were upon each other for society; and it may be easily supposed that we soon became more intimate, although I did not altogether like or understand my acquaintance. He was certainly a good-looking man, but his appearance was somewhat singular. He was tall, very powerful in frame, though rather meagre than otherwise, full-chested, broad-shouldered, thin in the flank, long and sinewy in limb. His nose was strongly aquiline, his eye over-arched by a very prominent eye-brow, was dark, bright and quick. He wore neither whisker nor mustache, and I remarked that his teeth were beautifully white and perfect, although at this time he must have been considerably above fifty. His dress never varied at any time I saw him, consisting of a black coat, waistcoat and handkerchief, drab breeches, and English top-boots. His hat always shone like a looking-glass, and his gloves always fitted beautifully, and seemed to be fresh that day. I found that he spoke English and French with equal facility, and I never could get any one to tell me what was his country. Frenchmen, who heard him speak, declared at once that he was French, and that no foreigner could ever acquire the accent so perfectly. Englishmen, and myself amongst the number felt sure that he was English, judging by the same test; and I am rather inclined to believe now, that he was in reality a Russian spy. He never, by any chance, alluded to his country, to his profession, or to his habits—except indeed, one day, when he called himself a wandering spirit, rarely remaining more than three days in the same place. He must have been well acquainted with Rennes, however; for he knew every nook and corner in the city, and had evidently some knowledge of a great many people in it, for he bowed to many, spoke to several; but although I afterward asked several persons whom I had seen him thus recognize, who he was, none of them could tell me, and most of them seemed not much to like the subject.