Then, with one hand upon the steering-wheel, he related a motor-tour he had made in Touraine during one of his absences on sick leave, from which he always returned worse than he went away. He had done thirty miles an hour. Of course, the roads were dry and in good condition, but there were cattle, children, and frightened horses to pass, all of which might have caused trouble. You had to keep your eyes about you, and never let the other fellow touch the wheel. He related a few incidents of the tour, one adventure with a milkwoman standing out particularly in his mind. “I saw the old woman coming along,” he said, “taking up the whole of the road with her horse and cart. I sounded my horn, but the old creature never moved aside. Then I made straight for her. She was new to that trick. She drew up by the side of the road, pulling so hard at her horse that he fell in a heap with the cart, milk-pails, old woman and all, upon a pile of stones; so I left them to it and went on,” concluded young Bonmont, as he jumped out of the car. “And, in spite of the dust and the noise, motoring is a very pleasant way of getting about. You try it, my dear fellow.” “He is a good sort, after all,” thought young Dellion admiringly. And his wonder grew when, dragging him along by the arm through the great hall, Bonmont said to him: “You are quite right. Don’t buy that motor. I’ll lend you my runabout. I shan’t want it, because I’ve got to go back, my leave is nearly up. Besides---- By the way, do you know if Madame de Gromance is in Paris?” “I believe so, but I am not quite sure,” replied Gustave. “It is some time since I saw her.” This was in one way an honourable falsehood, for at ten minutes past seven on the preceding evening he had left Madame de Gromance in her room at the hotel where they had their rendezvous. Bonmont did not reply, but, coming to a full stop before a notice in two languages, forbidding smoking, he gazed at it silently and thoughtfully. Gustave, following his example, remained speechless, thinking it would not be prudent to bring the interview to an end. So he added: “But I may see her again soon. I _can_ see her, if you will tell me----” The little Baron looked him straight in the eyes, and said: “Would you like to do me a favour?” Gustave assented with the enthusiasm of a good-natured soul and the uneasiness of a person suddenly embarked upon a difficult enterprise. It was none the less true that Gustave could do Ernest de Bonmont a favour, and the latter proceeded to enlighten him on the subject. “If you would like to do me a favour, my dear Gustave, get Madame de Gromance to go and see Loyer, and ask him to make Abbé Guitrel a bishop.” And he added, “You would do me a genuine service.”