But in an instant I was sitting up again--for as the rider drew nearer, trotting briskly along, his form and air was familiar to me; and when he came opposite to me, I sprang up and ran out to meet him, crying out to him: "Gustave! Gustave!" It was Gustave de Berensac, my friend.

He reined in his horse and greeted me--and he greeted me without surprise, but not without apparent displeasure.
"I thought I should find you here still," said he.

"I rode over to seek you.

Surely you are not at the duchess' ?" His tone was eloquent of remonstrance.
"I've been staying at the inn." "At the inn ?" he repeated, looking at me curiously.

"And is the duchess at home ?" "She's at home now.