fant was confused by this reply; but his native impudence
soon regained the mastery.

"Fine customers, parbleu!" he answered, "this thief of a Guespin
has got thirty francs of mine which I'll never see again."

"Who knows?" said Plantat, ironically. "Besides, you are going to
make more than that to-night, there's so much company at the Orcival
festival."

During this brief conversation, M. Lecoq entered the inn for his
night-gown. His office being no longer a secret, he was not now
welcomed as when he was taken for a simple retired haberdasher.
Mme. Lenfant, a lady who had no need of her husband's aid to show
penniless sots the door, scarcely deigned to answer him. When he
asked how much he owed, she responded, with a contemptuous gesture,
"Nothing." When he returned to the door, his night-gown in hand,
M. Plantat said:

"Let's hurry, for I want to get news of our poor mayor."

The three hastened their steps, and the old justice of the peace,
oppressed with sad presentiments, and trying to combat them,
continued:

"If anything had happened at the mayor's, I should certainly have
been informed of it by this time. Perhaps Laurence has written that
she is ill, or a little indisposed. Madame Courtois, who is the best
woman in the world, gets excited about nothing; she probably wanted
to send her husband for Laurence at once. You'll see that it's some
false alarm."

No; some catastrophe had happened. A number of the village women
were standing before the mayor's gate. Baptiste, in the midst of
the group, was ranting and gesticulating. But at M. Plantat's
approach, the women fled like a troop of frightened gulls. The old
man's unexpected appearance annoyed the placid Baptiste not a little,
for he was interrupted, by the sudden departure of his audience, in
the midst of a superb oratorical flight. As he had a great fear of
M. Plantat, however, he dissimulated his chagrin with his habitual
smile.

"Ah, sir," cried he, when M. Plantat was three steps off, "ah, what
an affair! I was going for you--"

"Does your master wish me?"

"More than you can think. He ran so fast from Valfeuillu here, that
I could scarcely keep up with him. He's not usually fast, you know;
but you ought to have seen him this time, fat as he is!"

M. Plantat stamped impatiently.

"Well, we got here at last," resumed the man, "and monsieur rushed
into the drawing-room, where he found madame sobbing like a Magdalene.
He was so out of breath h