It was on a bright November morning, clear, sharp, and frosty, that we left Paris in the diligence for Lyons. M. le Monnier had accompanied us himself to the bureau, and given the _conducteur_ directions to show us every attention in his power. Three days' and nights' travelling brought us to Valence, where poor Margot, completely worn out, was obliged to repose for some hours, during which time I strolled through the town to see its churches and other remarkable monuments. It was the hour of the table-d'hôte as I regained the inn, and the hostess advised that we should dine at the public table, as less expensive than in private. I remember well with what mingled bashfulness and pride I entered the room, with Margot holding my hand. The company was a numerous one, comprising, besides many of the townspeople, several officers of the garrison, all of whom stared with undisguised astonishment at the aspect of two travellers of our youth and palpable inexperience, while the contrast between the deep mourning of her dress and the gay colors of mine at once showed that we were not brother and sister. To my respectful salute on entering, few deigned to reply; my companion's beauty had arrested every attention, and all eyes were turned towards her as she took her place at table. For the incident which succeeded, I must devote a short chapter. CHAPTER XXIX. THE INN AT VALENCE Preceded by the waiter, who was about to point out the places destined for us at the table, I walked up the room, holding Margot by the hand. The strangers made way for us as we went, not with any of the deferential politeness so usual in France, but in a spirit of insolent astonishment at our presence there. Such, at least, was the impression their behavior produced on me; and I was only anxious that it should not be so felt by my companion. As I drew back my chair, to seat myself at her side, I felt a hand placed on my arm. I turned, and saw an officer, a man of about six or seven and twenty, with a bushy red beard and moustache, who said,-- “This place is mine, citizen; you must go seek for one elsewhere.” I appealed to the waiter, who merely shrugged his shoulders, and muttered something unintelligible; to which I replied by asking him to show me another place, while I assisted Margot to rise. “La petite shall stay where she is,” broke in the officer, bluntly, as he brushed in front of me; and an approving laugh from his comrades at once revealed to me the full meaning of the impertinence. “This young lady is under my care, sir,” said I, calmly, “and needs no protection from you.” “The young lady,” cried he, with a burst of coarse laughter at the words, “knows better how to choose! Is it not so, citizen? I look a more responsible guardian than that thin stripling with the pale cheek.”