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"How in the world do you expect me to know?" she replied. "Go andask Amanda. I have no accounts to give you. Besides, I have togo and finish packing my trunks. So good-by, and enjoy yourself."And she went out so quick, that she caught Amanda, the chambermaid,kneeling behind the door.

"So that woman was listening," thought M. de Tregars, anxious anddissatisfied.

But it was in vain that he begged Mme. Zelie to return, and to heara single word more. She disappeared; and he had to resign himselfto leave the house without learning any thing more for the present.

He had remained there very long; and he was wondering, as he walkedout, whether Maxence had not got tired waiting for him in the littlecaf where he had sent him.

But Maxence had remained faithfully at his post. And when Marius deTregars came to sit by him, whilst exclaiming, "Here you are at last!"he called his attention at the same time with a gesture, and a winkfrom the corner of his eye, to two men sitting at the adjoining tablebefore a bowl of punch.

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Certain, now, that M. de Tregars would remain on the lookout, Maxencewas knocking on the table with his fist, to call the waiter, who wasbusy playing billiards with a customer.

And when he came at last, justly annoyed at being disturbed,"Give us two mugs of beer," Maxence ordered, "and bring us a packof cards."M. de Tregars understood very well that something extraordinary hadhappened; but, unable to guess what, he leaned over towards hiscompanion.

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"What is it?" he whispered.

"We must hear what these two men are saying; and we'll play a gameof piquet for a subterfuge."The waiter returned, bringing two glasses of a muddy liquid, a pieceof cloth, the color of which was concealed under a layer of dirt, anda pack of cards horribly soft and greasy.

"My deal," said Maxence.

And he began shuffling, and giving the cards, whilst M. de Tregarswas examining the punch-drinkers at the next table.

In one of the two, a man still young, wearing a striped vest withalpaca sleeves, he thought he recognized one of the rascally-lookingfellows he had caught a glimpse of in Mme. Zelie Cadelle'scarriage-house.

The other, an old man, whose inflamed complexion and blossomingnose betrayed old habits of drunkenness, looked very much like acoachman out of place. Baseness and duplicity bloomed upon hiscountenance; and the brightness of his small eyes rendered stillmore alarming the slyly obsequious smile that was stereotyped uponhis thin and pale lips.

They were so completely absorbed in their conversation, that theypaid no attention whatever to what was going on around them.

"Then," the old one was saying, "it's all over.""Entirely. The house is sold.""And the boss?""Gone to America.""What! Suddenly, that way?""No. We supposed he was going on some journey, because, every daysince the beginning of the week, they were bringing in trunks andboxes; but no one knew exactly when he would go. Now, in the nightof Saturday to Sunday, he drops in the house like a bombshell, wakesup everybody, and says he must leave immediately. At once weharness up, we load the baggage up, we drive him to the WesternRailway Station, and good-by, Vincent!""And the young lady?""She's got to get out in the next twenty-four hours; but she don'tseem to mind it one bit. The fact is we are the ones who grievethe most, after all.""Is it possible?""It is so. She was a good girl; and we won't soon find one likeher."The old man seemed distressed.