stess
was to him; but he finally walked toward her, and after a long look at
her from over his spectacles:

"You are Dame Hansen, I suppose?" he said, without even touching the
hat he had not yet removed from his head.

"Yes, sir."

In the presence of this man the widow, strange to say, experienced,
like her daughter, an uneasiness for which she could not account, but
which her guest must have noticed.

"So you are really Dame Hansen, of Dal?" he continued.

"Certainly, sir. Have you anything particular to say to me?"

"Nothing; I only wished to make your acquaintance. Am I not your
guest? And now I should like you to see that I have my dinner as soon
as possible."

"Your dinner is ready," interposed Hulda, "and if you will step into
the dining-room--"

"I will."

As he spoke, the stranger directed his steps toward the door
indicated, and a moment afterward he was seated near the window in
front of a small, neatly spread table.

The dinner was certainly good. The most fastidious traveler could not
have found fault with it; nevertheless, this ill-tempered individual
was not sparing in his signs and words of dissatisfaction--especially
signs, for he did not appear to be very loquacious. One could hardly
help wondering whether this fault-finding was due to a poor digestion
or a bad temper. The soup of cherries and gooseberries did not suit
him, though it was excellent, and he scarcely tasted his salmon
and salt-herring. The cold ham, broiled chicken and nicely seasoned
vegetables did not seem to please him, and his bottle of claret and
his half bottle of champagne seemed to be equally unsatisfactory,
though they came from the best cellars in France; and when the repast
was concluded the guest had not even a "_tack for mad_" for his
hostess.

After dinner the old curmudgeon lighted his pipe and went out for a
walk along the river bank.

On reaching the stream he turned and fixed his eyes upon the inn. He
seemed to be studying it under all its varied aspects, as if trying to
form a correct estimate of its value.

He counted every door and window, and finally on his return to the
inn he stuck his knife into the horizontal beams at its base, as if to
test the quality of the wood and its state of preservation. Could
it be that he was trying to find out how much Dame Hansen's inn was
really worth? Did he aspire to become the owner of it, though it was
not for sale? All this was certainly very strange, especial