That Cadbury should utterly disbelieve him was a matter of course, as it was a point with that personage never to believe sincerely in anyone, or that anyone ever did a single thing without an interested motive. At home he was a man who was arrogant among his equals, a tyrant among his dependents and inferiors, and was the terror of every poacher for thirty miles round Cadbury Court. So his reputation was not a pleasant one. In coming to Antwerp, Goring had learned one great fact, that she was alive; that she had not perished in the collision at sea; but suppose that, from subsequent circumstances, it were better that the waves had closed over her? or suppose no trace of her were ever to be discovered in any way--that she had disappeared out of the world, as it were? Such things happen even in London; so why not on the continent of Europe? But he thrust these ideas aside as too horrible for contemplation, and bent his whole thoughts to the duel, which he never doubted must come off now, and speedily, after the terrible affront he had put upon Cadbury, in presence of the Flemish servants at the Hôtel St. Antoine. If it took place, Alison's name, at all hazards, must be kept out of the story, which would be sure to find its way into every 'Society' paper in London, and he shrunk from the fear of her being made the subject of hack gossip, which is ever cynical or worse. Goring waited all that day at the Hôtel du Parc, expecting some messenger from Lord Cadbury; and he waited a considerable portion of the next; but none came; so he bethought him of sending one on his own account. He had not a single friend in Antwerp; but during those two days, while at breakfast and other meals at the _table d'hôte_ he had sat next an officer of the Belgian artillery, with whom--in the freemasonry of soldiering--he speedily became intimate, for all soldiers have a thousand interests, sympathies, and topics in common. Captain Victor Gabion was a handsome fellow, about thirty years of age, with an antique style of head and face, his cheeks a clear olive tint, dark moustache, and keen eye--handsome we say, but of a rare type; a little effeminate, perhaps, but not the less attractive for that. He had a suavity and sweetness of manner. His form was well knit; he was square-shouldered, singularly slender in the waist--but that is affected by all Belgian officers, and as a Captain of Artillery when in undress wore a gold aiguilette on the left shoulder, with cords across the breast. Full of his own thoughts and terrible anxieties, Bevil Goring was not much in a mood for talking about anything; but the general _bonhomie_ of Victor Gabion was very attractive and infectious, and so they rapidly became intimate; but we are told that 'there are times when a man must speak--even to a dog or his worst enemy--rather than keep silence altogether.'