I made all arrangements betimes for an early start the next morning; and, with a remembrance of what had passed between us last night, ordered a table, with one cover only, to be set for mademoiselle near the window of the dining-room. Then I went out into the garden to while away the time there until my charge was ready for the journey. There was a little walk outside the open window, through which I could see all that passed within the dining-room. Here I paced backwards and forwards, reflecting on the events of the past few hours. I could, of course, see that for some reason or other Diane had apparently broken with De Ganache. It was not a trick of heartless coquetry--for that I gave her credit. Yet the change had been so swift and sudden that it was difficult to assign any other reason for it. So far as I was concerned I was sure my affair was utterly hopeless; but the air of the Italian campaign would doubtless cure me, and I almost caught myself wishing that I had lost the game last night and was free to turn my horse's head where I listed. In this disjointed thought I passed some time, and it was well after nine o'clock that Diane came forth from her room. Through the window I saw her descending the stair, and, not wishing to intrude, withdrew to the extreme end of the walk, where I began to be interested in the operations of a spider weaving his web in a rose bush. I could, however, see into the room, and observed Diane stop near the table, hesitate a little, and then sit down. Pechaud began to flutter around her, but after a little she rose, and coming to the window looked straight out at me. My spider had by this time vanished into the petals of a half-open rose, and turning I met Diane's look, and lifted my hat in formal greeting, remaining, however, where I was, as I was determined to keep the position she had assigned to me. "Monsieur Broussel!" "Mademoiselle!" And now I stepped up to the window. "Will you let me know when we start?" "As soon as ever you are rested sufficiently, mademoiselle." My tone was coldly polite, and there was equal indifference in her voice. "It is very good of you to say this; but now that I have decided to go to Paris the sooner it is over the better." "The horses are ready." "Then, perhaps, we had better start." "I am at your service, mademoiselle." And a quarter of an hour later we were on our way once again. I did not take the direct road by Chatellerault, but turned half westward, intending to enter Touraine by way of Chinon, and then to follow the route by which I had come to Poitiers.