“There are no papers at the inn,” said Gatien to Lousteau, who went out to meet him.
“And you found none at the Chateau d’Anzy either?” replied Lousteau.
“You have been making a fool of me,” said Gatien, in a cold, set voice.
“Quite so,” replied Lousteau. “Madame de la Baudraye was greatly annoyed by your choosing to follow her without being invited. Believe me, to bore a woman is a bad way of courting her. Dinah has played you a trick, and you have given her a laugh; it is more than any of you has done in these thirteen years past. You owe that success to Bianchon, for your cousin was the author of the Farce of the ‘Manuscript.’—Will the horse get over it?” asked Lousteau with a laugh, while Gatien was wondering whether to be angry or not.
“The horse!” said Gatien.
At this moment Madame de la Baudraye came in, dressed in a velvet gown, and accompanied by her mother, who shot angry flashes at Lousteau. It would have been too rash for Dinah to seem cold or severe to Lousteau in Gatien’s presence; and Etienne, taking advantage of this, offered his arm to the supposed Lucretia; however, she declined it.
“Do you mean to cast off a man who has vowed to live for you?” said he, walking close beside her. “I shall stop at Sancerre and go home to-morrow.”
“Are you coming, mamma?” said Madame de la Baudraye to Madame Piedefer, thus avoiding a reply to the direct challenge by which Lousteau was forcing her to a decision.
Lousteau handed the mother into the chaise, he helped Madame de la Baudraye by gently taking her arm, and he and Gatien took the front seat, leaving the saddle horse at La Baudraye.
“You have changed your gown,” said Gatien, blunderingly, to Dinah.