“Unfortunately I’m kept at home by my poor father’s health,” was his second. “After all, it’s better that I should go by myself,” went on Amédée. “Two of us together would attract attention.” “But will you know how to manage?” At this, Amédée raised his shoulders and eyebrows, as much as to say: “I can but do my best!” “Will you know whom to appeal to?... where to go?... And, as a matter of fact, what exactly do you mean to do when you get there?” “First of all, find out the facts.” “Supposing, after all, there were no truth in the story?” “Exactly! I can’t rest till I know.” And Gaston immediately exclaimed: “No more can I!” “Do take a little more time to think it over, dear,” protested Arnica feebly. “I have thought it over. I shall go--secretly--but I shall go.” “When? Nothing is ready.” “This evening. What do I need so much?” “But you haven’t ever travelled. You won’t know how to.” “You’ll see, my love, you’ll see! When I come back, I’ll tell you my adventures,” said he, with an engaging little chuckle which set his Adam’s apple shaking. “You’re certain to catch cold.” “I’ll wear your comforter.” He stopped in his pacing to raise Arnica’s chin with the tip of his forefinger, as one does a baby’s, when one wants to make it smile. Gaston’s attitude was one of reserve. Amédée went up to him: “I count upon you to look up my trains. Find me a good train to Marseilles with thirds. Yes, yes, I insist upon travelling third. Anyhow, make me out a time-table in detail and mark the places where I shall have to change--and where I can get refreshments--at any rate, as far as the frontier; after that, when I’ve got a start, I shall be able to look after myself, and with God’s guidance I shall get to Rome. You must write to me there poste restante.” The importance of his mission was exciting his brain dangerously. After Gaston had gone, he continued to pace the room; from time to time he murmured, his heart melting with wonder and gratitude: “To think that such a thing should be reserved for _me_!” So at last he had his _raison d’être_. Ah! for pity’s sake, dear lady, let him go! To how many beings on God’s earth is it given to find their function? All that Arnica obtained was that he should pass this one night with her, Gaston, indeed, having pointed out in the time-table which he brought round in the evening, that the most convenient train was the one that left at 8 <small>A.M.</small> * * * * * The next morning it poured with rain. Amédée would not allow Arnica or Gaston to go with him to the station; so that the quaint traveller with his cod-fish eyes, his neck muffled in a dark crimson comforter, holding in his right hand a grey canvas portmanteau, on to which his visiting-card had been nailed, in his left an old umbrella, and on his arm a brown and green check shawl, was carried off by the train to Marseilles, without a farewell glance from anyone. IV