"But that adventure caused me to lose my pupils and the fruit of my labors. Distressed by this catastrophe, for which I could accuse no one but myself, I proposed to Bertrand that we take a trip to Scotland before returning to our own country. One of my pupils had presented me with a horse, I bought one for Bertrand, and we left London in the saddle. We stopped at a lovely village called, I believe, Newington. After breakfasting at an inn, I sat alone, waiting for my companion, whom I had sent to pay our bill. Surprised at his failure to return, I went downstairs and made inquiries. 'Your companion has gone,' they told me; 'he just mounted his horse and rode off at a gallop.' Utterly unable to understand his absence, I remained at the inn all day, waiting for him. I could not imagine that Bertrand had left me; but the next day again I waited in vain. I questioned the people at the inn; they could tell me nothing except that, after paying our bill, he had crossed the courtyard, and a moment later they had seen him riding away at full speed. I was driven at last to a realization of the fact that Bertrand had voluntarily turned his back on me. Ah! Denise, I can't tell you how I suffered because of his desertion! Accustomed to living with my old friend, I had often paid little heed to his advice, but I set great store by his friendship. No doubt he was tired of my foolish performances; he probably lost patience, and despairing of making me less reckless, did not choose to share my evil fortune any longer. However, he had often sworn never to leave me while he lived, and I trusted his oath, for a friend's is more sacred than a mistress's." "Bertrand--leave you! I can't understand it!" said Denise. "I changed my plans, and, having no further desire to go to Scotland, determined to return to France. Oh! how I longed to stand on my native soil! I felt a most intense craving to see you and to embrace this little fellow! I sold my horse to pay my passage. When I arrived at Calais, I reckoned up my resources and determined to travel on foot. But, I confess, my strength frequently betrayed my courage. Accustomed as I am to wealth, to the comforts of life, my health is still that of a dandy, while my modest costume stamps me a humble wayfarer; and more than once I had to stop on the way. At last I reached this village; before going on to Paris, I longed to see this spot once more, to learn what you were doing, Denise. And here I am by your side! Unhappiness, fatigue, everything is forgotten; and to-morrow, with a razor, clean linen, and a few changes in my costume, you will see once more, not the resplendent Dalville, but at least poor Auguste, for whom your friendship is not dead." Auguste kissed the child. Denise, who had taken the deepest interest in his story, said to him: "I trust that now you will not go travelling over the world any more?" "You must stay with us, my kind friend," said Coco.