“Now,” murmured he, “I do not dream, and still I think I see Remy.  I cannot remain in this uncertainty; I must clear up my doubts.”

He got up and ran down the road after them, but they had disappeared.  Then he went to all the hotels and questioned the servants, and after much search discovered that two cavaliers had been seen going toward a small inn in the Rue de Beffroi.  The landlord was just shutting the doors when Henri entered.  While the man offered him rooms and refreshment, he looked round, and saw on the top of the staircase Remy going up, lighted by a servant; of his companion he saw nothing.  Du Bouchage had no longer any doubts, and he asked himself, with a dreadful sinking of the heart, why Remy had left his mistress and was traveling without her; for Henri had been so occupied in identifying Remy, that he had scarcely looked at his companion.  The next morning when he rose, he was much surprised to learn that the two travelers had obtained from the governor permission to go out; and that, contrary to all custom, the gates had been opened for them.  Thus, as they had set out at one o’clock, they had six hours’ start of him.  Henri put his horse to the gallop and passed the travelers at Mons. He saw Remy; but Remy must have been a sorcerer to know him, for he had on a soldier’s great coat and rode another horse.  Nevertheless, Remy’s companion, at a word from him, turned away his head before Henri could see his face.  But the young man did not lose courage; he watched them to their hotel, and then questioning, with the aid of an irresistible auxiliary, learned that Remy’s companion was a very handsome, but very silent and sad looking young man.  Henri trembled.  “Can it be a woman?” asked he.

“It is possible,” replied the host:  “many women travel thus disguised just now, to go and rejoin their lovers in Flanders; but it is our business to see nothing, and we never do.”

Henri felt heart-broken at this explanation.  Was Remy, indeed, accompanying his mistress dressed as a cavalier; and was she, as the host suggested, going to rejoin her lover in Flanders?  Had Remy lied when he spoke of an eternal regret? was this fable of a past love, which had clothed his mistress forever in mourning, only his invention to get rid of an importunate watcher?

“If it be so,” cried Henri, “the time will come when I shall have courage to address this woman and reproach her with all the subterfuges which lower her whom I had placed so high above all ordinary mortals; and seeing nearer this brilliant envelope of a common mind, perhaps I shall fall of myself from the height of my illusions and my love.”

And the young man tore his hair in despair at the thought of losing the love which was killing him; for a dead heart is better than an empty one.  So he continued to follow them, and to wonder at the cause which took to Flanders, at the same time as himself, these two beings so indispensable to his existence.