it, but it was not the friend. Once the cab was also passed by a calèche rapidly whirled along by two post-horses.
"Ah!" said Cavalcanti to himself, "if I only had that britska, those two good post-horses, and, above all, the passport that carries them on!" And he sighed deeply.
The calèche contained Mademoiselle Danglars and Mademoiselle d'Armilly.
"Onward! onward!" said Andrea; "we must overtake him soon."
And the poor horse resumed the desperate gallop it had never slackened since leaving the barrier, and arrived smoking at Louvres.
"Certainly," said Andrea, "I shall not overtake my friend, but I shall kill your horse; therefore I had better stop. Here are thirty francs; I will sleep at the 'Cheval Rouge,' and will secure a place in the first coach. Good-night, friend!"
And Andrea, after placing six pieces of five francs each in the man's hand, leaped lightly on to the pathway. The coachman joyfully pocketed the sum, and turned back on his road to Paris. Andrea pretended to go toward the hotel of the 'Cheval Rouge,' but after stopping an instant against the door, and hearing the last sound of the cab, which was disappearing to view, he went on his road, and with a firm tread prepared for a walk of two leagues. There he paused; he must be near Chapelle-en-Serval, where he had said that he was going.
It was not fatigue that stayed Andrea here; it was that he might form some resolution, adopt some plan. It would be impossible to make use of a diligence, equally so to engage post-horses; to travel either way a passport was necessary. It would also be impossible to remain in the department of the Oise, one of the most open and strictly guarded in France; this was quite impossible, especially to a man like Andrea, perfectly conversant on criminal matters. He sat down by the side of the moat, buried his face in his hands and reflected.
Ten minutes after he raised his head; his resolution was made. He threw some dust on his overcoat, which he had found time to unhook from the antechamber and button over his ball costume, and going to Chapelle-en-Serval, he knocked loudly at the door of the only inn in the place.
The host opened it.
"My friend," said Andrea, "I was coming from Mortefontaine to Senlis, when my horse, which is a troublesome creature, stumbled and threw me. I must reach Compiègne to-night, or I shall cause deep anxiety to my family. Could you let me hire a horse of you?"
An inn-keeper has always a horse to let, whether it be good or bad. The host of La Chapelle-en-Serval called the stable-boy, and ordered
