I reached Neuville in good season without adventure of any kind and asked to be directed to the Bon Vivant, an inn to which I had been recommended by M. de Marigny as the only decent one in the village. I found it without difficulty and sat down at a table on a little vine-clad terrace overlooking a pleasant valley. Here my lunch was presently brought to me, and here, soon after, the landlord sought me out and leaned deferentially above my chair. “Is there anything more monsieur requires?” he asked. “Nothing; I am thoroughly content,” I answered. “I have to thank a friend for advising me to stop here.” “Have I the honor of addressing M. de Tavernay?” he questioned, bending still lower. “That is indeed my name,” I said, glancing up at him in surprise. “I did not know it had penetrated to these parts.” “Oh, monsieur is too modest!” he returned with a flattering smile. “There is a person here who wishes to speak with monsieur when he is at leisure.” “To speak with me?” I repeated, more and more astonished. “Who is it?” “I do not know his name, but he is most anxious not to miss monsieur. He has been awaiting monsieur since yesterday.” The thought flashed through my mind that it was some emissary of the Republic sent to arrest me, but a moment’s reflection showed me the absurdity of such a suspicion. How should the Republic know that I would pass this way, that I would stop at this inn? Besides, I was too small a bird to trouble the Republic--though, small as I was, I added to myself with a smile, the task of arresting me would scarcely have been entrusted to a single man. No; since he approached me alone in this manner he could not be an enemy. A sudden trembling seized me. Perhaps---- “Bring him here at once,” I said; and my host, who had been patiently awaiting the end of my perplexity, bowed and hurried away. He reappeared in a moment followed by a man dressed decently in black and showing all the marks of the servant. A glance at his face told me that I had never before seen him. “This is M. de Tavernay,” said my host to him; and bowing again to me, withdrew. Evidently I had become in his eyes a person of considerable importance. “Well?” I asked, as calmly as I could, for my heart was throbbing wildly as I turned to the newcomer. “You wished to speak to me?” “I have a letter for monsieur,” he answered, and produced it from an inner pocket. “A letter?” I repeated, and seized it with trembling hand. Then a sudden chill fell upon me as I saw the signature. The note ran: “MY DEAR TAVERNAY:--