xclaimed his aunt, who thought she heard M.
Gillenormand speaking, and who felt her conviction become irresistible
at that word fillette, accentuated in almost the very same fashion by
the granduncle and the grandnephew. She resumed:--

"Do us a favor. Follow Marius a little. He does not know you, it will be
easy. Since a lass there is, try to get a sight of her. You must write
us the tale. It will amuse his grandfather."

Theodule had no excessive taste for this sort of spying; but he was much
touched by the ten louis, and he thought he saw a chance for a possible
sequel. He accepted the commission and said: "As you please, aunt."

And he added in an aside, to himself: "Here I am a duenna."

Mademoiselle Gillenormand embraced him.

"You are not the man to play such pranks, Theodule. You obey discipline,
you are the slave of orders, you are a man of scruples and duty, and you
would not quit your family to go and see a creature."

The lancer made the pleased grimace of Cartouche when praised for his
probity.

Marius, on the evening following this dialogue, mounted the diligence
without suspecting that he was watched. As for the watcher, the
first thing he did was to fall asleep. His slumber was complete and
conscientious. Argus snored all night long.

At daybreak, the conductor of the diligence shouted: "Vernon! relay of
Vernon! Travellers for Vernon!" And Lieutenant Theodule woke.

"Good," he growled, still half asleep, "this is where I get out."

Then, as his memory cleared by degrees, the effect of waking, he
recalled his aunt, the ten louis, and the account which he had
undertaken to render of the deeds and proceedings of Marius. This set
him to laughing.

"Perhaps he is no longer in the coach," he thought, as he rebuttoned the
waistcoat of his undress uniform. "He may have stopped at Poissy; he may
have stopped at Triel; if he did not get out at Meulan, he may have got
out at Mantes, unless he got out at Rolleboise, or if he did not go on
as far as Pacy, with the choice of turning to the left at Evreus, or to
the right at Laroche-Guyon. Run after him, aunty. What the devil am I to
write to that good old soul?"

At that moment a pair of black trousers descending from the imperial,
made its appearance at the window of the coupe.

"Can that be Marius?" said the lieutenant.

It was Marius.

A little peasant girl, all entangled with the horses and the postilions
at the end of the vehicle, was offering f