We left the villa.
Out of doors it was still light, but with the afterglow. The sun was out of sight, but the earth was still enveloped, as it were, in a haze of luminous dust.
M. Charnot pulled out his watch.
“Seven minutes past eight. What time does the last train start, Jeanne?”
“At ten minutes to eight.”
“Confusion! we are stranded in Desio! The mere thought of passing the night in that inn gives me the creeps. I see no way out of it unless Monsieur Mouillard can get us one of the Count’s state coaches. There isn’t a carriage to be got in this infernal village!”
“There is mine, Monsieur, which luckily holds four, and is quite at your service.”
“Upon my word, I am very much obliged to you. The drive by moonlight will be quite romantic.”
He drew near to Jeanne and whispered in her ear:
“Are you sure you’ve wraps enough? a shawl, or a cape, or some kind of pelisse?”