He waited, idling away the moments until Jacquette came, while seeing Fleur de Mai sally forth with Boisfleury, the former having a new plume in his hat and a fresh scarf round him, while the latter swaggered by his side untidy as ever. He saw, too, La Truaumont across the river, sitting in a tavern balcony which overhung the rushing stream, and drinking with an old man of vulpine appearance--the old man who had early that morning descended from the French coach and looked up at the window of the Marquise's salon and leered and stuck his tongue in his cheek, so that Humphrey had felt sure the woman in that salon was visible. "Ha," he said to himself, "so he, too, is in it. He is the intriguer of whom the Duchess spoke; the man who was to come here. Well! well! we shall know more to-night." As he thought this, however, he determined that he would not wait until the full night had come ere he retired to his room and began to keep his watch, since he would thus be ready to hear all that might be said in the next one. A word to the Duchess, a hint of what he was about to do, would absolve him from any attendance on her that evening. Jacquette came forth from the inn now, her pretty travelling _escoffion_ on her head and her little cape around her shoulders, when, stepping across the place to where he stood with his back to her, she joined him. Then--after looking across the river towards the spot where Humphrey told her La Truaumont was seated (La Truaumont who, having seen her come out of the inn, now waved his hand gracefully to her, though half _en camarade_ and half with the air of a roystering, boisterous soldier) she put her hand on her lover's arm and, together, they walked side by side along the left bank of the swift, rushing Rhine.