As Greisse had already paid his modest bill, amounting altogether to little more than three francs, this was kind of the young landlord, and while he was eating his bread and ham he promised faithfully that he would give the message just as George had given it to him. It was on the third day after the departure of Edmond Greisse that George told Madame Faragon that he was going home. 'Going where, George?' said Madame Faragon, leaning forward on the table before her, and looking like a picture of despair. 'To Granpere, Madame Faragon.' 'To Granpere! and why? and when? and how? O dear! Why did you not tell me before, child?' 'I told you as soon as I knew.' 'But you are not going yet?' 'On Monday.' 'O dear! So soon as that! Lord bless me! We can't do anything before Monday. And when will you be back?' 'I cannot say with certainty. I shall not be long, I daresay.' 'And have they sent for you?' 'No, they have not sent for me, but I want to see them once again. And I must make up my mind what to do for the future.' 'Don't leave me, George; pray do not leave me!' exclaimed Madame Faragon. 'You shall have the business now if you choose to take it--only pray don't leave me!' George explained that at any rate he would not desert her now at once; and on the Monday named he started for Granpere. He had not been very quick in his action, for a week had passed since he had given Edmond Greisse his breakfast in the hotel kitchen. CHAPTER IV. Adrian Urmand had been three days gone from Granpere before Michel Voss found a fitting opportunity for talking to his niece. It was not a matter, as he thought, in which there was need for any great hurry, but there was need for much consideration. Once again he spoke on the subject to his wife. 'If she's thinking about George, she has kept it very much to herself,' he remarked. 'Girls do keep it to themselves,' said Madame Voss. 'I'm not so sure of that. They generally show it somehow. Marie never looks lovelorn. I don't believe a bit of it; and as for him, all the time he has been away he has never so much as sent a word of a message to one of us.' 'He sent his love to you, when I saw him, quite dutifully,' said Madame Voss. 'Why don't he come and see us if he cares for us? It isn't of him that Marie is thinking.' 'It isn't of anybody else then,' said Madame Voss. 'I never see her speak a word to any of the young men, nor one of them ever speaking a word to her.' Pondering over all this, Michel Voss resolved that he would have it all out with his niece on the following Sunday.