"God forbid!" repeated the two neighbors, looking expectantly at the empty supper-table.
"It has been a wretched day for traveling;" said Louis, the eldest son.
"It rained in torrents all yesterday," added Thomas; the second son.
"And your father's rheumatism makes him averse to traveling in wet weather," suggested the widow, thoughtfully.
"Very true," said the first of the two neighbors, shaking his head piteously at his passive knife and fork.
Another message came up from the kitchen, and peremptorily forbade the company to wait any longer.
"But where is Monsieur Chaubard?" said the widow. "Has he been taking a journey too? Why is he absent? Has any body seen him to-day?"
"I have seen him to-day," said the youngest son, who had not spoken yet. This young man's name was Jean; he was little given to talking, but he had proved himself, on various domestic occasions, to be the quickest and most observant member of the family.
"Where did you see him?" asked the widow.
"I met him this morning, on his way into Toulouse."