They hastened to her side. Gerard moved off a few steps and lit a cigar. She explained her desires. The inborn gallantry of the children of the South manifested itself in expressions of delight. They made the military ambulance seat for her with crossed hands, took her up and set off at a brisk pace. Gerard marched behind them sardonically, cursing under his breath, and signed to the third man to follow with the ponies and phaeton. They formed a singular procession. At the turn of the road the little inn came in sight, upon the brow of an embankment overlooking the road. It was a squat white building with “_Au Séjour du Soleil_” inscribed in enormous letters across its façade. In front of it stood a ramshackle arbour of lattice work, covered with straggling vine, beneath which were rough tables and benches blistered by the sun. Leaving the carriage in the road below, Gerard followed the bearers up the steep path to the door of the inn. The place was quite deserted, save for some fowls, a goat tethered to a post, and the buxom _patronne_ who was grinding coffee in the arbour. The bearers put Minna to the ground, and she stood on one foot supporting herself between them. The landlady left her coffee, and rushed out to meet her. “I want a room for an hour or two, where I can lie down until a carriage comes to me from Nice. This gentleman will fetch it,” said Minna. An interval of explanation and enquiry followed. Then the _patronne_ entered the house to look after the room. “You need not wait,” said Minna to Gerard, coldly. “I want to satisfy myself that you are comfortable,” he replied, sitting down on one of the benches.