Jacob stopped short at the same moment. He recognized Mathilde's husband standing at the door of the inn near a woman who, from her height and figure, bore no resemblance to his wife.
"It is a hallucination! It is not possible!" exclaimed the Jew.
"There is no doubt. It is Segel; it is he!" said Ivas.
Jacob's heart beat violently.
"Yet," added he, as if to explain the reality, "they should be far from here, even supposing some accident had happened to their carriage. It is singular.--Yes, it is Henri--perhaps she is ill, she--Let us seek another inn. It will be awkward for all. Ivas, go and assure yourself of this thing."
The Jew seated himself near a café bearing the motto, Del Gran Colombo. A quarter of an hour later the messenger returned. He seemed surprised.
"Well, how is it?" asked Jacob.
"Very strange. It is he, but--it is not she."
"You dream! Your eyes deceived you, without doubt."
"No, I never forget a face. This one is a young Italian, fresh and gay. Impossible to compare her with Madame Mathilde: she is heaven, this one the earth."