de Reybert were displeasing to his superiors. My husband has watched

your steward for the last three years, being aware of his dishonesty
and intending to have him lose his place. We are, as you see, quite

frank with you. Moreau has made us his enemies, and we have watched
him. I have come to tell you that you are being tricked in the

purchase of the Moulineaux farm. They mean to get an extra hundred
thousand francs out of you, which are to be divided between the

notary, the farmer Leger, and Moreau. You have written Moreau to
invite Margueron, and you are going to Presles to-day; but Margueron

will be ill, and Leger is so certain of buying the farm that he is now
in Paris to draw the money. If we have enlightened you as to what is

going on, and if you want an uprightsteward you will take my husband;
though noble, he will serve you as he has served the State. Your

steward has made a fortune of two hundred and fifty thousand francs
out of his place; he is not to be pitied therefore."

The count thanked Madame de Reybert coldly, bestowing upon her the
holy-water of courts, for he despised backbiting; but for all that, he

remembered Derville's doubts, and felt inwardlyshaken. Just then he
saw his steward's letter and read it. In its assurances of devotion

and its respectful reproaches for the distrust implied in wishing to
negotiate the purchase for himself, he read the truth.

"Corruption has come to him with fortune,--as it always does!" he said
to himself.

The count then made several inquiries of Madame de Reybert, less to
obtain information than to gain time to observe her; and he wrote a

short note to his notary telling him not to send his head-clerk to
Presles as requested, but to come there himself in time for dinner.

"Though Monsieur le comte," said Madame de Reybert in conclusion, "may
have judged me unfavorably for the step I have taken unknown to my

husband, he ought to be convinced that we have obtained this
information about his steward in a natural and honorable manner; the

most sensitiveconscience cannot take exception to it."
So saying, Madame de Reybert, nee de Corroy, stood erect as a pike-

staff. She presented to the rapid investigation of the count a face
seamed with the small-pox like a colander with holes, a flat, spare

figure, two light and eager eyes, fair hair plastered down upon an
anxiousforehead, a small drawn-bonnet of faded green taffetas lined

with pink, a white gown with violet spots, and leather shoes. The
count recognized the wife of some poor, half-pay captain, a puritan,

subscribing no doubt to the "Courrier Francais," earnest in virtue,
but aware of the comfort of a good situation and eagerly coveting it.

"You say your husband has a pension of six hundred francs," he said,
replying to his own thoughts, and not to the remark Madame de Reybert

had just made.
"Yes, monsieur."

"You were born a Corroy?"
"Yes, monsieur,--a noble family of Metz, where my husband belongs."

"In what regiment did Monsieur de Reybert serve?"
"The 7th artillery."

"Good!" said the count, writing down the number.
He had thought at one time of giving the management of the estate to

some retired army officer, about whom he could obtain exact
information from the minister of war.

"Madame," he resumed, ringing for his valet, "return to Presles, this
afternoon with my notary, who is going down there for dinner, and to

whom I have recommended you. Here is his address. I am going myself
secretly to Presles, and will send for Monsieur de Reybert to come and

speak to me."
It will thus be seen that Monsieur de Serizy's journey by a public

conveyance, and the injunction conveyed by the valet to conceal his
name and rank had not unnecessarily alarmed Pierrotin. That worthy had

just forebodings of a danger which was about to swoop down upon one of
his best customers.

CHAPTER III
THE TRAVELLERS

As Pierrotin issued from the Cafe de l'Echiquier, after treating the
valet, he saw in the gate-way of the Lion d'Argent the lady and the

young man in whom his perspicacity at once detected customers, for the
lady with outstretched neck and anxious face was evidently looking for

him. She was dressed in a black-silk gown that was dyed, a brown
bonnet, an old French cashmere shawl, raw-silk stockings, and low

shoes; and in her hand she carried a straw bag and a blue umbrella.
This woman, who had once been beautiful, seemed to be about forty

years of age; but her blue eyes, deprived of the fire which happiness
puts there, told plainly that she had long renounced the world. Her

dress, as well as her whole air and demeanor, indicated a mother
whollydevoted to her household and her son. If the strings of her

bonnet were faded, the shape betrayed that it was several years old.
The shawl was fastened by a broken needle converted into a pin by a

bead of sealing-wax. She was waitingimpatiently for Pierrotin,
wishing to recommend to his special care her son, who was doubtless

travelling for the first time, and with whom she had come to the
coach-office as much from doubt of his ability as from maternal

affection.
This mother was in every way completed by the son, so that the son

would not be understood without the mother. If the mother condemned
herself to mended gloves, the son wore an olive-green coat with

sleeves too short for him, proving that he had grown, and might grow
still more, like other adults of eighteen or nineteen years of age.

The blue trousers, mended by his mother, presented to the eye a
brighter patch of color when the coat-tails maliciously parted behind

him.
"Don't rub your gloves that way, you'll spoil them," she was saying as

Pierrotin appeared. "Is this the conductor? Ah! Pierrotin, is it you?"
she exclaimed, leaving her son and taking the coachman apart a few

steps.
"I hope you're well, Madame Clapart," he replied, with an air that

expressed both respect and familiarity.
"Yes, Pierrotin, very well. Please take good care of my Oscar; he is

travelling alone for the first time."
"Oh! so he is going alone to Monsieur Moreau!" cried Pierrotin, for

the purpose of finding out whether he were really going there.
"Yes," said the mother.

"Then Madame Moreau is willing?" returned Pierrotin, with a sly look.
"Ah!" said the mother, "it will not be all roses for him, poor child!

But his future absolutely requires that I should send him."
This answer struck Pierrotin, who hesitated to confide his fears for

the steward to Madame Clapart, while she, on her part, was afraid of
injuring her boy if she asked Pierrotin for a care which might have

transformed him into a mentor. During this short deliberation, which
was ostensibly covered by a few phrases as to the weather, the

journey, and the stopping-places along the road, we will ourselves
explain what were the ties that united Madame Clapart with Pierrotin,

and authorized the two confidential remarks which they have just
exchanged.

Often--that is to say, three or four times a month--Pierrotin, on his
way to Paris, would find the steward on the road near La Cave. As soon

as the vehicle came up, Moreau would sign to a gardener, who, with
Pierrotin's help, would put upon the coach either one or two baskets

containing the fruits and vegetables of the season, chickens, eggs,
butter, and game. The steward always paid the carriage and Pierrotin's

fee, adding the money necessary to pay the toll at the barriere, if
the baskets contained anything dutiable. These baskets, hampers, or

packages, were never directed to any one. On the first occasion, which
served for all others, the steward had given Madame Clapart's address

by word of mouth to the discreet Pierrotin, requesting him never to
deliver to others the precious packages. Pierrotin, impressed with the

idea of an intrigue between the steward and some pretty girl, had gone
as directed to number 7 rue de la Cerisaie, in the Arsenal quarter,

and had there found the Madame Clapart just portrayed, instead of the
young and beautiful creature he expected to find.