made a breakfast which, though evidently intended for but one person, as only one place was set, might in case of need have sufficed for three or four.
The young man’s first act on entering the dining-room was to go straight to a mirror, remove his hat, arrange his hair with a little comb which he took from his pocket; after which he went to a porcelain basin with a reservoir above it, took a towel which was there for the purpose, and bathed his face and hands. Not until these ablutions were completed – characteristic of a man of elegant habits – not until these ablutions had been minutely performed did the stranger sit down to the table.
A few minutes sufficed to satisfy his appetite, to which youth and fatigue had, however, given magnificent proportions; and when Baptiste came in to inform the solitary guest that the carriage was ready he found him already afoot and waiting.
The stranger drew his hat low over his eyes, wrapped his coat about him, took the valise under his arm, and, as Baptiste had taken pains to lower the carriage-steps as close as possible to the door, he sprang into the post-chaise without being seen by the postilion. Baptiste slammed the door after him; then, addressing the man in the top-boots:
“Everything is paid to Valence, isn’t it, relays and fees?” he asked.
“Everything; do you want a receipt?” replied the postilion, jokingly.
“No; but my master, the Marquise de Ribier, don’t want to be disturbed until he gets to Valence.”
“All right,” replied the postilion, in the same bantering tone, “the citizen Marquis shan’t be disturbed. Forward, hoop-la!” And he started his horses, and cracked his whip with that noisy eloquence which says to neighbors and passers-by: “‘Ware here, ‘ware there! I am driving a man who pays well and who has the right to run over others.”
Once in the carriage the pretended Marquis of Ribier opened the window, lowered the blinds, raised the seat, put his valise in the hollow, sat down on it, wrapped himself in his cloak, and, certain of not being disturbed till he reached Valence, slept as he had breakfasted, that is to say, with all the appetite of youth.
They went from Orange to Valence in eight hours. Our traveller awakened shortly before entering the city. Raising one of the blinds cautiously, he recognized the little suburb of Paillasse. It was dark, so he struck his repeater and found it was eleven at night. Thinking it useless to go to sleep again, he added up the cost of the relays to Lyons and counted out the money. As the postilion at Valence passed the comrade who replaced him, the traveller heard him say:
“It seems he’s a ci-devant; but he was recommended from Orange, and, as he pays twenty sous fees, you must treat him as you would a patriot.”
“Very well,” replied the other; “he shall be driven accordingly.”
The traveller thought the time had come to intervene. He raised the blind and said:
“And you’ll only be doing me justice. A patriot? Deuce take it! I pride myself upon being one, and of the first calibre, too! And the proof is – Drink this to the health of the Republic.” And he handed a hundred-franc assignat to the postilion who had recommended him to his comrade. Seeing the other looking eagerly at this strip of paper, he continued: “And the same to you if you will repeat the recommendation you’ve just received to the others.”
“Oh! don’t worry, citizen,” said the postilion; “there’ll be but one order to Lyons – full speed!”
“And here is the money for the sixteen posts, including the double post of entrance in advance. I pay twenty sous fees. Settle it among yourselves.”
The postilion dug his spurs into his horse and they were off at a gallop. The carriage relayed at Lyons about four in the afternoon. While the horses were being changed, a man clad like a porter, sitting with his stretcher beside him on a stone post, rose, came to the carriage and said something in a low tone to the young Companion of Jehu which seemed to astonish the latter greatly.
“Are you quite sure?” he asked the porter.
“I tell you that I saw him with my own eyes!” replied the latter.
“Then I can give the news to our friends as a positive fact?”
“You can. Only hurry.”
“Have they been notified at Servas?”
“Yes; you will find a horse ready between Servas and Sue.”
The postilion came up; the young man exchanged a last glance with the porter, who walked away as if charged with a letter of the utmost importance.
“What road, citizen?” asked the postilion.
“To Bourg. I must reach Servas by nine this evening; I pay thirty sous fees.”
“Forty-two miles in five hours! That’s tough. Well, after all, it can be done.”
“Will you do it.”
“We can try.”
And the postilion started at full gallop. Nine o’clock was striking as they entered Servas.
“A crown of six livres if you’ll drive me half-way to Sue without stopping here to change horses!” cried the young man through the window to the postilion.
“Done!” replied the latter.
And the carriage dashed past the post house without stopping.
Morgan stopped the carriage at a half mile beyond Servas, put his head out of the window, made a trumpet of his hands, and gave the hoot of a screech-owl. The imitation was so perfect that another owl answered from a neighboring woods.
“Here we are,” cried Morgan.
The postilion pulled up, saying: “If we’re there, we needn’t go further.”
The young man took his valise, opened the door, jumped out and stepped up to the postilion.
“Here’s the promised ecu.”
The postilion took the coin and stuck it in his eye, as a fop of our day holds his eye-glasses. Morgan divined that this pantomime had a significance.
“Well,” he asked, “what does that mean?”
“That means,” said the postilion, “that, do what I will, I can’t help seeing with the other eye.”
“I understand,” said the young man, laughing; “and if I close the other eye – ”
“Damn it! I shan’t see anything.”
“Hey! you’re a rogue who’d rather be blind than see with one eye! Well, there’s no disputing tastes. Here!”
And he gave him a second crown. The postilion stuck it up to his other eye, wheeled the carriage round and took the road back to Servas.
The Companion of Jehu waited till he vanished in the darkness. Then putting the hollow of a key to his lips, he drew a long trembling sound from it like a boatswain’s whistle.
A similar call answered him, and immediately a horseman came out of the woods at full gallop. As he caught sight of him Morgan put on his mask.
“In
