fortune. Monsieur de la Baudraye may live to be a hundred; but he might
die in a few days if he should leave off the flannel winding-sheet in
which he swathes himself. So run no risks, be prudent both of you.--Say
not a work--I have read your heart."

Madame de la Baudraye was defenceless under this serried attack, and in
the presence of a man who spoke at once as a doctor, a confessor, and
confidential friend.

"Indeed!" said she. "Can you suppose that any woman would care to
compete with a journalist's mistresses?--Monsieur Lousteau strikes me as
agreeable and witty; but he is _blase_, etc., etc.----"

Dinah had turned back, and was obliged to check the flow of words by
which she tried to disguise her intentions; for Etienne, who seemed to
be studying progress in Cosne, was coming to meet them.

"Believe me," said Bianchon, "what he wants is to be truly loved; and if
he alters his course of life, it will be to the benefit of his talent."

Dinah's coachman hurried up breathlessly to say that the diligence had
come in, and they walked on quickly, Madame de la Baudraye between the
two men.

"Good-bye, my children!" said Bianchon, before they got into the town,
"you have my blessing!"

He released Madame de la Baudraye's hand from his arm, and allowed
Lousteau to draw it into his, with a tender look, as he pressed it
to his heart. What a difference to Dinah! Etienne's arm thrilled
her deeply. Bianchon's had not stirred her in the least. She and the
journalist exchanged one of those glowing looks that are more than an
avowal.

"Only provincial women wear muslin gowns in these days," thought
Lousteau to himself, "the only stuff which shows every crease. This
woman, who has chosen me for her lover, will make a fuss over her frock!
If she had but put on a foulard skirt, I should be happy.--What is the
meaning of these difficulties----"

While Lousteau was wondering whether Dinah had put on a muslin gown on
purpose to protect herself by an insuperable obstacle, Bianchon, with
the help of the coachman, was seeing his luggage piled on the diligence.
Finally, he came to take leave of Dinah, who was excessively friendly
with him.

"Go home, Madame la Baronne, leave me here--Gatien will be coming," he
added in an undertone. "It is getting late," said he aloud. "Good-bye!"

"Good-bye--great man!" cried Lousteau, shaking hands with Bianchon.

When the journalist and Madame de la Baudraye, side by side in the
rickety ol