little half hour that remains to me here, for my stomach is in rebellion!'

Every person who was sitting about the table, responded to this comic summons, by a solemn assurance that they had no part in what had passed. Bremond wished to see the heart of this singular adventure. His curiosity imposed a delay of some minutes upon his stomach, and he went into the hall, after praying his companions to reserve his part of each dish, and he had promised to return immediately to explain to them the solution of the enigma. The groom, who had heard both the prayer and the promise, smiled, but always with an air full of respect, and immediately he was in the passage with the young Parisian.

'Bremond wished to laugh at the expense of those gentlemen,' said he, for he knows very well that he will not dine this evening at the hotel of Chevreuil!'

We are alone

ex

'I know very well,' said Bremond, whose appetite was aroused by these words, 'that I will not go one step farther! plain yourself, and that in a hurry; but remember that if by any misfortune you have had the bad luck to be intrusted with an impertinent commission, I will not quit Chalons without first giving you a cow-hiding!'

The groom bowed with resignation.

'You have compelled me, even now,' continued the Parisian, ' to leave my dinner, and to lose my place of carver!'

'I see well,' replied the groom, with the same imperturbable smile, 'that you are disposed to be gay. You do not, of course expect to pass the night at Chalons; nor do I think you will regret leaving the bad dinner of the hotel, for the magnificent repast that is waiting at the house.'

This last phrase, by no means less incomprehensible than the rest of the conversation of the young groom, calmed, not a little, the irritation of the Parisian. He answered with more gentle

ness,

of

'You wait upon me, then, to dine at the house master?'

your

The gentleman should rather say at the house of my mistress,' replied the messenger.

'A woman! A good dinner!- How mysterious! Still,' thought Bremond, brushing the dust from his coat, this is not very alarming, and the adventure begins to take a very humane turn. But once more,' continued he, addressing the ' are you sure that it is to me groom, Anatole Bremond, of Paris, 7, Rue Saint-Georges, painter of Landscapes, that your mistress sends this courteous invitation?'

- to me

'Yes! oh yes! Here is a letter from her which will confirm my message.'

Bremond very promptly took a little billet which the groom handed him. The superscription simply bore the name of 'Bremond' but the writing was completely unknown to the young Parisian. He broke the seal, impatient to read the signature to this mysterious missive, but to fill up the mystery, the letter was anonymous, and bore only these words:

'M. Bremond is awaited with the greatest impatience. He is besought immediately to follow, without delay, the person who will hand him this billet. He can count upon his haste and his discretion also.'

It would have become neither a Parisian nor a painter, to have turned aside from the path to a romance, that had opened itself in so piquant a manner. Bremond, forgetting entirely the feast at the hotel of Chevreuil, and the diligence of Laffitte & Caillard, said resolutely to the lackey beside him,

'Lead on!'

'It is but a few steps to the carriage,' said the groom turning towards the wharf.

'So much the better!' thought the young painter, for I am literally dying of hunger and curiosity.'

But a few steps on, at a corner of the main

street, Bremond noticed an elegant cabriolet, into which the groom requested him to enter. The little fellow immediately took his place beside the traveler, and lashing his horse, they were borne rapidly over a road to the country, leading along. the banks of the river. Bremond had given up questioning the lackey, whose incomplete answers were far from satisfactory. He resigned himself, therefore, to wait for the explanation and denouement of this romantic impression. of travel.

'Parblue!' said he to himself in a low tone, as the cabriolet rolled on its way, 'this resembles a little a prologue to the Tour de Neile. I have the appearance, at this moment, of Capt. Baridon, taking himself in a cabriolet to the mysterious rendezvous of Madame Marguerite de Bourgoyne. Nevertheless, I am in for it! Whatever turns up, it will always be a good story to tell to my friends and associates: at least, supposing that to imitate the end of the bloody drama — I am not, after a most agreeable night, murdered, sewed up in a sack, and thrown into the floods of the Saone !'

These thoughts ran through his mind, by a very natural transition, as he endeavored to hit upon the probable causes of his carrying off.

'I am very positive,' thought he, 'that I know no person in Chalons. I have never passed

through the place. It is barely possible that some one of my friends, without my knowledge, has come to reside here, but it cannot be that they are informed of my journey, and of my arrival in this village; for I left Paris suddenly, by a mere freak, not intending, even, when I left before daylight, to come upon this route. Not one of my comrades of the study could know of my absence, for I had reserved bidding adieu to those dear friends till I should arrive at Marseilles. Ah!' suddenly cried the young artist, striking his forehead, I have it, I have the secret of the riddle! I lay a wager it is Chalabert or Cormieu! Either the one or the other is at uncle's or aunt's in the environs of Lyons. That is it! Chalabert or Cormieu is without doubt on a vacation in the country and a sublime inspiration!- a little improvisation a groom discreet and adroita mysterious billet - a cabriolet - dropping me at the house of my uncle-waiting upon me with shouts of laughter a repast with the family there where's the pith of so poor a joke?'

In terminating this plot, Bremond thought he could catch the groom in a categorical response; accordingly he directed to the little player, a question.

'Little lackey! You belong to Chalabert?' 'Please you, no sir!' said the groom.