“So,” he continued, “I seized the first opportunity for a little change.”
There was a pause. Gustave’s mournful eye ranged over the landscape. Then he said, in a patient, sorrowful voice:
“You said the duchess was at home?”
“Yes, she’s at home now.”
“Ah! I ask again, because as I passed the inn on the way between here and Pontorson I saw in the courtyard—”
“Yes, yes, what?” cried I in sudden eagerness.
“What’s the matter, man? I saw a carriage with some luggage on it, and it looked like the duke’s, and—Hallo! Gilbert, where are you going?”
“I can’t wait, I can’t wait!” I called, already three or four yards away.
“But I haven’t heard how you got your arm—”
“I can’t tell you now. I can’t wait!”