It was plain, from his manner, that he chose to be close-mouthed on the subject of Monsieur de Merri. He was one of those people who generally have a desire to talk of themselves and all their affairs, but who can be suddenly very secretive on some particular matter or occasion. I saw that I must give him up, for that time at least. Perhaps on the road next day his unwillingness to be communicative about Monsieur de Merri would have passed away. But meanwhile, what was the cause of that unwillingness? Did he know, after all, what had occurred at La Flèche, and had he begun to suspect me? I inwardly cursed his reticence, and went soon to bed, that I might rise the earlier.
But early as I rose, my young friend had beaten me. The ostler to whom I described him said he had ridden off half-an-hour ago. In no very amiable mood, I rode after him. Not till the forenoon was half spent, did I catch up. He saluted me politely, and gave me his views of the weather, but was not otherwise talkative. We rode together pleasantly enough, but there was no more of that openness in him which would have made me feel safe in resuming the subject of Monsieur de Merri. As we approached noon and our destination, I asked him about the different families of consequence living thereabouts, and he mentioned several names and circumstances, but told me nothing from which I could infer the possibility of danger to any of their ladies. It was toward mid-day when we rode into the great square of Montoire, and found ourselves before the inn of the Three Kings.
I turned to take leave of my travelling companion, thinking that as he belonged to this town he would go on to his own house.
"I'm going to stop here for a glass of wine and to leave my horse awhile," he said, noticing my movement.
He followed me through the archway. A stout innkeeper welcomed me, saw me dismount, and then turned to my young fellow-traveller, speaking with good-natured familiarity:
"Ah, my child, so you are back safe after your journey. Let us see, how long have you been away? Since Sunday morning—four days and a half. I might almost guess where you've been, from the time—for all the secret you make of it."
The young man laughed perfunctorily, and led his horse to the stable after the ostler who had taken mine.
"A pleasant young man," said I, staying with the landlord. "He lives in this town, he tells me."
"Yes, an excellent youth. He owns his bit of land, and though his father was a miller, his children may come near being gentlemen."
I went into the kitchen, and ordered dinner. Presently my young man entered and had his wine, which he poured down quickly. He then bowed to me, and went away, like one who wishes to lose no time.