There was, however, still time to spare, and I sat down at a café and ordered some coffee.  While it was being brought my thoughts played round Marie Delhasse.  I doubted whether I disliked her for being tempted, or liked her for resisting at the last; at any rate, I was glad to have helped her a little.  If I could now persuade her to leave Avranches, I should have done all that could reasonably be expected of me; if the duke pursued, she must fight the battle for herself.  So I mused, sipping my coffee; and then I fell to wondering what the duchess would say on seeing me again so soon.  Would she see me?  She must, whether she liked it or not; I could not keep the diamonds all night.  Perhaps she would like.

“There you are again!” I said to myself sharply, and I roused myself from my meditations.

As I looked up, I saw the man Lafleur opposite to me.  He had his back toward me, but I knew him, and he was just walking into a shop that faced the café and displayed in its windows an assortment of offensive weapons—­guns, pistols, and various sorts of knives.  Lafleur went in.  I sat sipping my coffee.  He was there nearly twenty minutes; then he came out and walked leisurely away.  I paid my score and strolled over to the shop.  I wondered what he had been buying.  Dueling pistols for the duke, perhaps!  I entered and asked to be shown some penknives.  The shopman served me with alacrity.  I chose a cheap knife, and then I permitted my gaze to rest on a neat little pistol that lay on the counter.  My simple ruse was most effective.  In a moment I was being acquainted with all the merits of the instrument, and the eulogy was backed by the information that a gentleman had bought two pistols of the same make not ten minutes before I entered the shop.

“Really!” said I.  “What for?”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir.  It is a wise thing often to carry one of these little fellows.  One never knows.”

“In case of a quarrel with another gentleman?”

“Oh, they are hardly such as we sell for dueling, sir.”

“Aren’t they?”

“They are rather pocket pistols—­to carry if you are out at night; and we sell many to gentlemen who have occasion in the way of their business to carry large sums of money or valuables about with them.  They give a sense of security, sir, even if no occasion arises for their use.”

“And this gentleman bought two?  Who was he?”

“I don’t know, sir.  He gave me no name.”

“And you didn’t know him by sight?”

“No, sir; perhaps he is a stranger.  But indeed I’m almost that myself:  I have but just set up business here.”

“Is it brisk?” I asked, examining the pistol.

“It is not a brisk place, sir,” the man answered regretfully.  “Let me sell you one, sir!”

It happened to be, for the moment, in the way of my business to carry valuables, but I hoped it would not be for long, so that I did not buy a pistol; but I allowed myself to wonder what my friend Lafleur wanted with two—­and they were not dueling pistols!  If I had been going to keep the diamonds—­but then I was not.  And, reminded by this reflection, I set out at once for the convent.