“There is no difficulty about being the best--I am the only one,” said the host. “Serve us in the side room,” said Corentin, winking at Derville. “And do not be afraid of setting the chimney on fire; we want to thaw out the frost in our fingers.” “It was not warm in the coach,” said Derville. “Is it far to Marsac?” asked Corentin of the innkeeper’s wife, who came down from the upper regions on hearing that the diligence had dropped two travelers to sleep there. “Are you going to Marsac, monsieur?” replied the woman. “I don’t know,” he said sharply. “Is it far from hence to Marsac?” he repeated, after giving the woman time to notice his red ribbon. “In a chaise, a matter of half an hour,” said the innkeeper’s wife. “Do you think that Monsieur and Madame Sechard are likely to be there in winter?” “To be sure; they live there all the year round.” “It is now five o’clock. We shall still find them up at nine.” “Oh yes, till ten. They have company every evening--the cure, Monsieur Marron the doctor----” “Good folks then?” said Derville. “Oh, the best of good souls,” replied the woman, “straight-forward, honest--and not ambitious neither. Monsieur Sechard, though he is very well off--they say he might have made millions if he had not allowed himself to be robbed of an invention in the paper-making of which the brothers Cointet are getting the benefit----” “Ah, to be sure, the Brothers Cointet!” said Corentin. “Hold your tongue,” said the innkeeper. “What can it matter to these gentlemen whether Monsieur Sechard has a right or no to a patent for his inventions in paper-making?--If you mean to spend the night here--at the _Belle Etoile_----” he went on, addressing the travelers, “here is the book, and please to put your names down. We have an officer in this town who has nothing to do, and spends all his time in nagging at us----” “The devil!” said Corentin, while Derville entered their names and his profession as attorney to the lower Court in the department of the Seine, “I fancied the Sechards were very rich.” “Some people say they are millionaires,” replied the innkeeper. “But as to hindering tongues from wagging, you might as well try to stop the river from flowing. Old Sechard left two hundred thousand francs’ worth of landed property, it is said; and that is not amiss for a man who began as a workman. Well, and he may have had as much again in savings, for he made ten or twelve thousand francs out of his land at last. So, supposing he were fool enough not to invest his money for ten years, that would be all told. But even if he lent it at high interest, as he is suspected of doing there would be three hundred thousand francs perhaps, and that is all. Five hundred thousand francs is a long way short of a million. I should be quite content with the difference, and no more of the _Belle Etoile_ for me!” “Really!” said Corentin. “Then Monsieur David Sechard and his wife have not a fortune of two or three millions?”