"I must not wake her."
"Then I shall!" and he swung up a cane with a gold head in his herculean fist.
But he lowered it without hitting, for at the same instant he caught sight of a carriage tearing up the slope behind three fagged horses. The skilled eye of the would-be buyer recognized the vehicle, for he rushed toward it with a speed the Arabian might have envied.
It was the post carriage of Gilbert's guardian angel, which the postboy was enchanted to stop, on seeing the man wave him to do so, for he knew the nags would never reach the post house.
"Chon, my dear Chon," said the stranger. "What joy that you turn up, at last!"
"It is I, Jean," replied the lady to whom was given this odd name; "what are you doing
here?"
"A pretty question, by Jove! I was waiting for you."
The Hercules stepped on the folding-step, and kissed the lady through the window. Suddenly he caught sight of Gilbert, and turned as black as a dog from which is snatched a bone, from not knowing the terms between the pair in the berlin.
"It is a most amusing little philosopher whom I picked up," returned Chon, caring little whether she wounded the pet's feelings or not, "on the road—but never mind him."