“Yes.” “Well, Monsieur le Maire will travel alone and without baggage, in order not to overload the horse?” “Agreed.” “But as Monsieur le Maire will have no one with him, he will be obliged to take the trouble himself of seeing that the oats are not stolen.” “That is understood.” “I am to have thirty francs a day. The days of rest to be paid for also—not a farthing less; and the beast’s food to be at Monsieur le Maire’s expense.” M. Madeleine drew three napoleons from his purse and laid them on the table. “Here is the pay for two days in advance.” “Fourthly, for such a journey a cabriolet would be too heavy, and would fatigue the horse. Monsieur le Maire must consent to travel in a little tilbury that I own.” “I consent to that.” “It is light, but it has no cover.” “That makes no difference to me.” “Has Monsieur le Maire reflected that we are in the middle of winter?” M. Madeleine did not reply. The Fleming resumed:— “That it is very cold?” M. Madeleine preserved silence. Master Scaufflaire continued:— “That it may rain?” M. Madeleine raised his head and said:— “The tilbury and the horse will be in front of my door to-morrow morning at half-past four o’clock.” “Of course, Monsieur le Maire,” replied Scaufflaire; then, scratching a speck in the wood of the table with his thumb-nail, he resumed with that careless air which the Flemings understand so well how to mingle with their shrewdness:— “But this is what I am thinking of now: Monsieur le Maire has not told me where he is going. Where is Monsieur le Maire going?” He had been thinking of nothing else since the beginning of the conversation, but he did not know why he had not dared to put the question. “Are your horse’s forelegs good?” said M. Madeleine. “Yes, Monsieur le Maire. You must hold him in a little when going down hill. Are there many descends between here and the place whither you are going?” “Do not forget to be at my door at precisely half-past four o’clock to-morrow morning,” replied M. Madeleine; and he took his departure. The Fleming remained “utterly stupid,” as he himself said some time afterwards. The mayor had been gone two or three minutes when the door opened again; it was the mayor once more. He still wore the same impassive and preoccupied air. “Monsieur Scaufflaire,” said he, “at what sum do you estimate the value of the horse and tilbury which you are to let to me,—the one bearing the other?” “The one dragging the other, Monsieur le Maire,” said the Fleming, with a broad smile. “So be it. Well?” “Does Monsieur le Maire wish to purchase them or me?” “No; but I wish to guarantee you in any case. You shall give me back the sum at my return. At what value do you estimate your horse and cabriolet?” “Five hundred francs, Monsieur le Maire.” “Here it is.” M. Madeleine laid a bank-bill on the table, then left the room; and this time he did not return.