path toward the goal
where chivalry and manly ardour beckoned to me from afar.

I found my vehicle waiting for me at St. Cergues, and by the promise
of an additional pourboire, I succeeded in making the driver whip up
his horses to some purpose. Less than an hour later we drew up at Gex
outside the little inn, pretentiously called Le Roi de Rome. On
alighting I was met by the proprietress who, in answer to my inquiry
after two ladies who had arrived that afternoon, at once conducted me
upstairs.

Already my mind was busy conjuring up visions of the fair lady of
yester-eve. The landlady threw open a door and ushered me into a small
room which reeked of stale food and damp clothes. I stepped in and
found myself face to face with a large and exceedingly ugly old woman
who rose with difficulty from the sofa as I entered.

"M. Aristide Barrot," she said as soon as the landlady had closed the
door behind me.

"At your service, Madame," I stammered. "But--"

I was indeed almost aghast. Never in my life had I seen anything so
grotesque as this woman. To begin with she was more than ordinarily
stout and unwieldy--indeed, she appeared like a veritable mountain of
flesh; but what was so disturbing to my mind was that she was nothing
but a hideous caricature of her lovely daughter, whose dainty features
she grotesquely recalled. Her face was seamed and wrinkled, her white
hair was plastered down above her yellow forehead. She wore an
old-fashioned bonnet tied under her chin, and her huge bulk was draped
in a large-patterned cashmere shawl.

"You expected to see my dear daughter beside me, my good M. Barrot,"
she said after a while speaking with remarkable gentleness and
dignity.

"I confess, Madame--" I murmured.

"Ah! the darling has sacrificed herself for my sake. We found to-day
that though my son was out of the way, he had set his abominable
servants to watch over us. Soon we realized that we could not both get
away. It meant one of us staying behind to act the part of unconcern
and to throw dust in the eyes of our jailers. My daughter--ah! she is
an angel, Monsieur--feared that the disappointment and my son's
cruelty, when he returned on the morrow and found that he had been
tricked, would seriously endanger my life. She decided that I must go
and that she would remain."

"But, Madame--" I protested.

"I know, Monsieur," she rejoined with the same calm dignity which
already had commanded my respect, "I know that