. For if I succeeded in my task, if I
contrived to--but, pish! Women, I told myself, were all alike. She would
find consolation quickly enough.

I watched until the group broke up, and Madame, with one of the men,
went her way round the corner of the inn, and out of my sight. Then I
retired to bed again, feeling more than ever perplexed what course I
should adopt. It was clear that to succeed I must obtain admission to
the house, which was garrisoned, according to my instructions, by two
or three old men-servants only, and as many women; since Madame, to
disguise her husband's visits the more easily, lived, and gave out that
she lived, in great retirement. To seize her husband at home, therefore,
might be no impossible task; though here, in the heart of the village, a
troop of horse might make the attempt, and fail.

But how was I to gain admission to the house--a house guarded by
quick-witted women, and fenced with all the precautions love could
devise? That was the question; and dawn found me still debating it,
still as far as ever from an answer. Anxious and feverish, I was glad
when the light came, and I could get up. I thought that the fresh
air might inspire me, and I was tired of my stuffy closet. I crept
stealthily down the ladder, and managed to pass unseen through the lower
room, in which several persons were snoring heavily. The outer door was
not fastened, and in a hand-turn I was in the street.

It was still so early that the trees stood up black against the
reddening sky, but the bough upon the post before the door was growing
green, and in a few minutes the grey light would be everywhere. Already,
even in the roadway, there was a glimmering of it; and as I stood at the
corner of the house--where I could command both the front and the side
on which the stable opened--sniffing the fresh air, and looking for
any trace of the midnight departure, my eyes detected something
light-coloured lying on the ground. It was not more than two or three
paces from me, and I stepped to it and picked it up curiously, hoping
that it might be a note. It was not a note, however, but a tiny
orange-coloured sachet such as women carry in the bosom. It was full
of some faintly-scented powder, and bore on one side the initial 'E,'
worked in white silk; and was altogether a dainty little toy, such as
women love.

Doubtless Madame de Cocheforet had dropped it in the night. I turned it
over and over; and then I put it in my pouch