amoured of two young ladies, and chancing upon both while lodging in
different apartments at an inn, had decided which he should visit and
make his wife. He appeared to read what was in my mind, for as I bowed
before her, thanking her for the obliging things which she had uttered,
and which for ever bound me to her service, he gaily pinched her ear,
and said, 'When you want a good wife, M. de Marsac, be sure you turn to
the right.'

He spoke in jest, and having his own case only in his mind. But I,
looking mechanically in the direction he indicated, saw mademoiselle
standing a pace or two to my right in the shadow of the great
chimney-piece. I know not whether she frowned more or blushed more;
but this for certain, that she answered my look with one of sharp
displeasure, and, turning her back on me, swept quickly from the room,
with no trace in her bearing of that late tenderness and gratitude which
I had remarked.

CHAPTER XIII. AT ROSNY.

The morning brought only fresh proofs of the kindness which M. de
Rosny had conceived for me. Awaking early I found on a stool beside
my clothes, a purse of gold containing a hundred crowns; and a youth
presently entering to ask me if I lacked anything, I had at first some
difficulty in recognising Simon Fleix, so sprucely was the lad dressed,
in a mode resembling Maignan's. I looked at the student more than once
before I addressed him by his name; and was as much surprised by
the strange change I observed in him for it was not confined to his
clothes--as by anything which had happened since I entered the house. I
rubbed my eyes, and asked him what he had done with his soutane. 'Burned
it, M. de Marsac,' he answered briefly.

I saw that he had burned much, metaphorically speaking, besides his
soutane. He was less pale, less lank, less wobegone than formerly, and
went more briskly. He had lost the air of crack-brained disorder which
had distinguished him, and was smart, sedate, and stooped less. Only the
odd sparkle remained in his eyes, and bore witness to the same nervous,
eager spirit within.

'What are you going to do, then, Simon?' I asked, noting these changes
curiously.

'I am a soldier,' he answered, 'and follow M. de Marsac.'

I laughed. 'You have chosen a poor service, I am afraid,' I said,
beginning to rise; 'and one, too, Simon, in which it is possible you may
be killed. I thought that would not suit you,' I continued, to see what
he would say. But he answered