“Yes. I am much obliged to you for it. Is he any calmer this morning?” “He doesn’t look angry any longer, only I noticed that he had been weeping.” “Where is he?” “I don’t know at all. Besides, you might as well try to catch up with a deer as with him.” “That’s true. I’d better wait for him. When will he be in?” “Not before ten. I can tell you that it’s not once a year that he goes out like this in the morning.” “But, Madeleine, Jeanne will be here by ten!” “Oh, is Jeanne her name?” “Yes. Monsieur Charnot will be here, too. And my uncle, whom I was to have prepared for their visit, will know nothing about it, nor even that I slept last night beneath his roof.” “To tell the truth, Monsieur Fabien, I don’t think you’ve managed well. Still, there is Dame Fortune, who often doesn’t put in her word till the last moment.” “Entreat her for me, Madeleine, my dear.” But Dame Fortune was deaf to prayers. My uncle did not return, and I could find no fresh expedient. As I made my way, vexed and unhappy, to the station, I kept asking myself the question that I had been turning over in vain for the last hour: “I have said nothing to Monsieur Mouillard. Had I better say anything now to Monsieur Charnot?” My fears redoubled when I saw Jeanne and M. Charnot at the windows of the train, as it swept past me into the station. A minute later she stepped on to the platform, dressed all in gray, with roses in her cheeks, and a pair of gull’s wings in her hat. M. Charnot shook me by the hand, thoroughly delighted at having escaped from the train and being able to shake himself and tread once more the solid earth. He asked after my uncle, and when I replied that he was in excellent health, he went to get his luggage. “Well!” said Jeanne. “Is all arranged?” “On the contrary, nothing is.” “Have you seen him?” “Not even that. I have been watching for a favorable opportunity without finding one. Yesterday evening he was busy with a visitor; this morning he went out at six. He doesn’t even know that I am in Bourges.” “And yet you were in his house?” “I slept on a sofa in his library.” She gave me a look which was as much as to say, “My poor boy, how very unpractical you are!” “Go on doing nothing,” she said; “that’s the best you can do. If my father didn’t think he was expected he would beat a retreat at once.” At this instant, M. Charnot came back to us, having seen his two trunks and a hatbox placed on top of the omnibus of the Hotel de France. “That is where you have found rooms for us?” “Yes, sir.” “It is now twelve minutes past nine; tell Monsieur Mouillard that we shall call upon him at ten o’clock precisely.” I went a few steps with them, and saw them into the omnibus, which was whirled off at a fast trot by its two steeds.