"You may be sure I'll obey you."
"Good-by, I'm going back to the château."
"And I to the village—where I shall not await your visit," said Chaudoreille, in a low tone, gathering his cloak up under his arm that he might walk more quickly.
Touquet returned to the château and sought the marquis. It was night, and Villebelle was seated before a table as sumptuously furnished as was possible at the château; but the marquis, presuming that he should make a long sojourn there, had had his cellars replenished, and if the fare was not so delicate as in Paris, the wines were no less exquisite. The marquis appeared gayer than usual. He had already emptied several bottles, and near him were several letters which he read while supping.
"What news?" said he, on perceiving the barber.
"My researches have not proved vain, monseigneur. Julia is at the village; she is living at the inn under an assumed name. I have seen Chaudoreille, who is now her confidant."
"Ah, the little Gascon. Have you thrashed him soundly?"
"Not yet, monseigneur, I wished first to get your orders, and I have not seen Julia."
"You have done well, I will speak to her myself. Tomorrow we will go together to the village; I shall make the heedless girl hear reason, and we shall know this grand secret which she pretends she has to tell me."
"A secret?"