However, in spite of her unwillingness, Marguerite began to prepare the supper, while the woodman conversed gaily on different subjects. The postillion, who had been furnished with a bottle of spirits, was now ready to set out for Strasbourg, and enquired, whether I had any further commands.

“For Strasbourg?” interrupted Baptiste; “You are not going thither tonight?”

“I beg your pardon: if I do not fetch workmen to mend the chaise, how is Monsieur to proceed tomorrow?”

“That is true, as you say; I had forgotten the chaise. Well, but Claude; you may at least eat your supper here? That can make you lose very little time, and Monsieur looks too kindhearted to send you out with an empty stomach on such a bitter cold night as this is.”

To this I readily assented, telling the postillion that my reaching Strasbourg the next day an hour or two later would be perfectly immaterial. He thanked me, and then leaving the cottage with Stephano, put up his horses in the woodman’s stable. Baptiste followed them to the door, and looked out with anxiety.