A servant, dressed as a peasant, who drove the horses from a seat on a level with the body of the carriage, slipped his cartman’s whip into a coarse leather socket, and got down from the box to assist the marquis from the carriage; but Adrien and the younger de Simeuse prevented him, unbuttoned the leather apron, and helped the old man out in spite of his protestations.  This gentleman of the old school chose to consider his yellow berlingot with its leather curtains a most convenient and excellent equipage.  The servant, assisted by Gothard, unharnessed the stout horses with shining flanks, accustomed no doubt to do as much duty at the plough as in a carriage.

“In spite of this cold weather!  Why, you are a knight of the olden time,” said Laurence, to her visitor, taking his arm and leading him into the salon.

“What has he come for?” thought old d’Hauteserre.

Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, a handsome old gentleman of sixty-six, in light-colored breeches, his small weak legs encased in colored stockings, wore powder, pigeon-wings and a queue.  His green cloth hunting-coat with gold buttons was braided and frogged with gold.  His white waistcoat glittered with gold embroidery.  This apparel, still in vogue among old people, became his face, which was not unlike that of Frederick the Great.  He never put on his three-cornered hat lest he should destroy the effect of the half-moon traced upon his cranium by a layer of powder.  His right hand, resting on a hooked cane, held both cane and hat in a manner worthy of Louis XIV.  The fine old gentleman took off his wadded silk pelisse and seated himself in an armchair, holding the three-cornered hat and the cane between his knees in an attitude the secret of which has never been grasped by any but the roues of Louis XV.’s court, an attitude which left the hands free to play with a snuff-box, always a precious trinket.  Accordingly the marquis drew from the pocket of his waistcoat, which was closed by a flap embroidered in gold arabesques, a sumptuous snuff-box.  While fingering his own pinch and offering the box around him with another charming gesture accompanied with kindly smiles, he noticed the pleasure which his visit gave.  He seemed then to comprehend why these young emigres had been remiss in their duty towards him, and to be saying to himself, “When we are making love we can’t make visits.”

“You will stay with us some days?” said Laurence.

“Impossible,” he replied.  “If we were not so separated by events (for as to distance, you go farther than that which lies between us) you would know, my dear child, that I have daughters, daughters-in-law, and grand-children.  All these dear creatures would be very uneasy if I did not return to them to-night, and I have forty-five miles to go.”

“Your horses are in good condition,” said the Marquis de Simeuse.

“Oh!  I am just from Troyes, where I had business yesterday.”