"We shall see," Father Benôit answered, his eyes on the door. "Here they come. Ah! Now, M. le Vicomte," he continued in a lower tone, "I feel less confident." I suppose he guessed something akin to the truth; but for my part I was completely at a loss. The innkeeper, a sleek, complaisant man, of whom, though I had known him some years, I had never seen much beyond the crown of his head, nor ever thought of him as apart from his guests and his ordinary, wore, as he advanced, a strange motley of dignity and subservience; now strutting with pursed lips, and an air of extreme importance, and now stooping to bow in a shame-faced and half-hearted manner. His costume was as great a surprise as his appearance, for, instead of his citizen's suit of black, he sported a blue coat with gold buttons, and a canary waistcoat, and he carried a gold-headed cane; sober splendours, which, nevertheless, paled before two large bunches of ribbons, white, red, and blue, which he wore, one on his breast, and one in his hat. His companion, who followed a foot or two behind, his giant frame and sun-burned face setting off the citizen's plumpness, was similarly bedizened. But though be-ribboned and in strange company, he was still Baton, the smith. His face reddened as he met my eyes, and he shielded himself as well as he could behind Doury's form. "Good-morning, Doury," I said. I could have laughed at the awkward complaisance of the man's manner, if something in the gravity of the Curé's face had not restrained me. "What brings you to Saux?" I continued. "And what can I do for you?" "If it please you, M. le Vicomte," he began. Then he paused, and straightening himself--for habit had bent his back--he continued abruptly, "Public business, Monsieur, with you on it." "With me?' I said, amazed. On public business?" He smiled in a sickly way, but stuck to his text. "Even so, Monsieur," he said. "There are such great changes, and--and so great need of advice." "That I ought not to wonder at M. Doury seeking it at Saux?" "Even so, Monsieur." I did not try to hide my contempt and amusement; but shrugged my shoulders, and looked at the Curé. "Well," I said, after a moment of silence, "and what is it? Have you been selling bad wine? Or do you want the number of courses limited by Act of the States General? Or----" "Monsieur," he said, drawing himself up with an attempt at dignity, "this is no time for jesting. In the present crisis inn-keepers have as much at stake as, with reverence, the noblesse; and deserted by those who should lead them----" "What, the inn-keepers?" I cried. He grew as red as a beetroot. "M. le Vicomte understands that I mean the people," he said stiffly. "Who deserted, I say, by their natural leaders----" "For instance?" "M. le Duc d'Artois, M. le Prince de Condé, M. le Duc de Polignac, M.----" "Bah!" I said. "How have they deserted?" "_Pardieu_, Monsieur! Have you not heard?" "Have I not heard what?"