where the General's carriage awaited him. The
seignorial pile of the Chateau Campvallon soon appeared to him on a
height, of which the sides were covered with magnificent woods, sloping
down nearly to the plain, there spreading out widely.

It was almost the dinner-hour; and the young man, after arranging his
toilet, immediately descended to the drawing-room, where his presence
seemed to throw a wet blanket over the assembled circle. To make up for
this, the General gave him the warmest welcome; only--as he had a short
memory or little imagination--he found nothing better to say than to
repeat the expressions of his letter, while squeezing his hand almost to
the point of fracture.

"The son of my old friend and companion-in-arms," he cried; and the
words rang out in such a sonorous voice they seemed to impress even
himself--for it was noticeable that after a remark, the General always
seemed astonished, as if startled by the words that came out of his
mouth--and that seemed suddenly to expand the compass of his ideas and
the depth of his sentiments.

To complete his portrait: he was of medium size, square, and stout;
panting when he ascended stairs, or even walking on level ground; a face
massive and broad as a mask, and reminding one of those fabled beings
who blew fire from their nostrils; a huge moustache, white and grizzly;
small gray eyes, always fixed, like those of a doll, but still terrible.
He marched toward a man slowly, imposingly, with eyes fixed, as if
beginning a duel to the death, and demanded of him imperatively--the
time of day!

Camors well knew this innocent weakness of his host, but,
notwithstanding, was its dupe for one instant during the evening.

They had left the dining-table, and he was standing carelessly in the
alcove of a window, holding a cup of coffee, when the General approached
him from the extreme end of the room with a severe yet confidential
expression, which seemed to preface an announcement of the greatest
importance.

The postscript rose before him. He felt he was to have an immediate
explanation.

The General approached, seized him by the buttonhole, and withdrawing
him from the depth of the recess, looked into his eyes as if he wished
to penetrate his very soul. Suddenly he spoke, in his thunderous voice.
He said:

"What do you take in the morning, young man?"

"Tea, General."

"Aha! Then give your orders to Pierre--just as if you were at home;"
and, turning on his h