In an instant, Bigourdin lumbered out at full speed. He almost lifted her from the car, scattering outraged kitten and offended dog, hid her in his vast embrace and hugged her and kissed her and held her out at arm’s length and laughed and hugged her again. There was no doubt of the prodigal’s welcome. She laughed and sobbed and hugged the great man in return. And then he recovered himself and became the _bon hôtelier_ and assisted Lucilla to alight, while Félise greeted a smiling Martin and suffered the embrace of Euphémie, panting from the kitchen. “If mademoiselle will give herself the trouble of following me——” said Bigourdin, and led the way up the stairs, followed by Lucilla and Céleste, guardian of the jewel case. He threw open the door of the _chambre d’honneur_, a double-windowed room, above the terrace, overlooking the town and the distant mountains of the Limousin, and shewed her with pride a tiny salon adjoining, the only private sitting-room in the hotel, crossed the corridor and flung to view the famous bathroom, disclosed next door a room for the maid, and swept her back to the bedroom, where a pine-cone fire was blazing fragrantly. “_Voilà, mademoiselle_,” said he. “_Tout à votre disposition._” “I think it is absolutely charming,” cried Lucilla. She looked round. “Oh! what lovely things you have!” Bigourdin beamed and made a little bow. He took inordinate pride in his _chambre d’honneur_ in which he had stored the gems of the Empire furniture acquired by his great-grandfather, the luckless Général de Brigade. The instantaneous appreciation of a casual glance enchanted him. “I hope, mademoiselle,” said he, in his courteous way, “you will do Félise and myself the honour of being our guest as long as you deign to stay at Brantôme.” Lucilla met his bright eyes. “That’s delightful of you,” she laughed. “But I’m not one solitary person, I’m a caravan. There’s me and the maid and the chauffeur and the car and the dog and the cat.” “The hotel is very little, mademoiselle,” replied Bigourdin, “but our hearts are big enough to entertain them.” Nothing more, or, at least, nothing more by way of protest, was to be said. Lucilla put out her hand in her free, generous gesture. “Monsieur Bigourdin, I accept with pleasure your delightful hospitality.” “_Je vous remercie infiniment, mademoiselle_,” said Bigourdin.