Fig. 62.
It is impossible to say what the pony thought of the pace Paul made him go, at a temperature of 77° Fahr. in the shade. He arrived in a foam at the new house, so that most of the persons already assembled suspected that some accident had happened. When Paul, quite out of breath, told them that Madame Marie had put off her visit for an hour or two because she wanted rest, they exclaimed,
“If it is only that, there’s no need of any great hurry; it is quite natural she should need rest after so long a journey.”
Then everyone wanted to hear news of the travellers, and then they asked Paul to see this and that. Paul was in a fever.
“You are not going to ride back again in this state,” said the mayor; “you are in a bath of perspiration, and your pony is white with foam. Rest a little, and drink a glass of wine.”
It would have been discourteous not to comply, for the mayor had brought a basket of petit vin de Saumur. They drank the health of the future occupants, and the prosperity of the house, so that Paul lost a good hour. At last he was able to retrace his road to the château, at the same rate as before. But on reaching the edge of the plateau he saw the chaise at a distance, going towards the house. He made a detour, so as to join the party from the rear, and reached them just as the new domain was coming in sight.
“Look!” said his sister; “there’s a horseman in a great heat. Where does he come from? Is it he who is directing the whole plot?”
“Certainly,” replied her mother. “Look!”
They were in fact just beginning to see the outlines of Paul’s house, with its slated roof glistening in the rays of the sun. There was silence, and, it must be confessed, a little emotion.