k him for a
fool, but I begin to believe him as shrewd as myself."

The sailor, his mother, and Corentin awaited Mademoiselle de Verneuil,
whom the landlord went to summon. But the handsome traveller did not
come. The youth expected that she would make difficulties, and he left
the room, humming the popular song, "Guard the nation's safety," and
went to that of Mademoiselle de Verneuil, prompted by a keen desire to
get the better of her scruples and take her back with him. Perhaps he
wanted to solve the doubts which filled his mind; or else to exercise
the power which all men like to think they wield over a pretty woman.

"May I be hanged if he's a Republican," thought Corentin, as he saw him
go. "He moves his shoulders like a courtier. And if that's his mother,"
he added, mentally, looking at Madame du Gua, "I'm the Pope! They are
Chouans; and I'll make sure of their quality."

The door soon opened and the young man entered, holding the hand of
Mademoiselle de Verneuil, whom he led to the table with an air of
self-conceit that was nevertheless courteous. The devil had not allowed
that hour which had elapsed since the lady's arrival to be wasted. With
Francine's assistance, Mademoiselle de Verneuil had armed herself with a
travelling-dress more dangerous, perhaps, than any ball-room attire. Its
simplicity had precisely that attraction which comes of the skill with
which a woman, handsome enough to wear no ornaments, reduces her dress
to the position of a secondary charm. She wore a green gown, elegantly
cut, the jacket of which, braided and frogged, defined her figure in a
manner that was hardly suitable for a young girl, allowing her supple
waist and rounded bust and graceful motions to be fully seen. She
entered the room smiling, with the natural amenity of women who can show
a fine set of teeth, transparent as porcelain between rosy lips, and
dimpling cheeks as fresh as those of childhood. Having removed the close
hood which had almost concealed her head at her first meeting with
the young sailor, she could now employ at her ease the various little
artifices, apparently so artless, with which a woman shows off the
beauties of her face and the grace of her head, and attracts admiration
for them. A certain harmony between her manners and her dress made her
seem so much younger than she was that Madame du Gua thought herself
beyond the mark in supposing her over twenty. The coquetry of her
apparel, evidently worn to p