We parted with our escort from Soissons with many embracings and hand-shakes; they had covered six leagues in less than four hours. When we reached the summit of the Vauciennes hill, and while my whole being was basking in sweet sleep--as sound as that from which Saverny sadly reproached his executioner for rousing him--I was a second time shaken by Hutin. "Wake up! Wake up!" he said. "What is it?" "M. Boyer is asking for you; he wants to fight you." "All right! Where is he?" "Here I am!"said a voice. I rubbed my eyes and saw a man of between thirty-five and forty years of age, upon a horse lathered with sweat and foam. I got down from the trap. "Pardon, monsieur," I asked, "but I understand you wished a word with me." "Monsieur," the cavalier began in great excitement, "you have insulted me!" "I?" "Yes, you, monsieur! And you will, I hope, give me satisfaction!" "What for?" "For saying I was either mad or drunk!" "Stop a minute, please; I said so of someone, it is true, but of whom, then, did I say it?" "What the deuce!" exclaimed Hutin. "You said it of M. Mennesson!" "You see, monsieur, I did not whisper it to M. Hutin.... Had you any other reason for picking a quarrel with me?" "None whatever, monsieur." "In that case, it was hardly worth while waking me." "Monsieur, I thought--" "Do you still think so?" "No, as I am told it was not true." "Well, then?" "I wish you a good journey, monsieur." "Thanks!" M. Boyer turned his horse about and galloped back to Villers-Cotterets. We have often met since and laughed over this misunderstanding.