Part 60

"What do you want, my good man?"

The beggar looked around to see that no one was listening.

"I have brought you a note," said he, rapidly, and in a low tone. "I was told to give it, only to you, and to ask you to read it when you are alone."

He mysteriously slipped a note, carefully sealed, into Sauvresy's hand.

"It comes from pretty girl," added he, winking.

Sauvresy, turning his back to the house, opened it and read:

"SIR--You will do a great favor to a poor and unhappy girl, if you will come to-morrow to the Belle Image, at Corbeil, where you will be awaited all day.

"Your humble servant, "JENNY F---."

There was also a postscript.

"Please, sir, don't say a word of this to the Count de Tremorel."

"Ah ha," thought Sauvresy, "there's some trouble about Hector, that's bad for the marriage."

"I was told, sir," said the beggar, "there would be an answer."

"Say that I will come," answered Sauvresy, throwing him a franc piece.

XVII

The next day was cold and damp. A fog, so thick that one could not discern objects ten steps off, hung over the earth. Sauvresy, after breakfast, took his gun and whistled to his dogs.

"I'm going to take a turn in Mauprevoir wood," said he.

"A queer idea," remarked Hector, "for you won't see the end of your gun-barrel in the woods."

"No matter, if I see some pheasants."

This was only a pretext, for Sauvresy, on leaving Valfeuillu, took the direct road to Corbeil, and half an hour later, faithful to his promise, he entered the Belle Image tavern.

Jenny was waiting for him in the large room which had always been reserved for her since she became a regular customer of the house. Her eyes were red with recent tears; she was very pale, and her marble color showed that she had not slept. Her breakfast lay untouched on the table near the fireplace, where a bright fire was burning. When Sauvresy came in, she rose to meet him, and took him by the hand with a friendly motion.

"Thank you for coming," said she. "Ah, you are very good."

Jenny was only a girl, and Sauvresy detested girls; but her grief was so sincere and seemed so deep, that he was touched.

"You are suffering, Madame?" asked he.

"Oh, yes, very much."

Her tears choked her, and she concealed her face in her handkerchief.

"I guessed right," thought Sauvresy. "Hector has deserted her. Now I must smooth the wound, and yet make future meetings between them impossible."

He took the weeping Jenny's hand, and softly pulled away the handkerchief.

"Have courage," said he.