“Take care, ma petite; you nearly knocked me down!” cried a good-humoured voice, belonging to a large gentleman with a ruddy face, and black hair and beard.  “Ah! good morning, Monsieur,” he continued as he approached Horace; “I rejoice to see that you have not yet quitted Chaudfontaine, as you spoke of doing last night.”

“I have changed my mind,” said Horace, smiling as he recognised his fellow-traveller of the night before.  “I think of staying here to-day, and not leaving for Brussels till to-morrow morning.”

“You will not regret it,” said his companion, as they turned back towards the hotel, and walked on slowly together; “it is true there is not much here to tempt you during the day; but numbers will arrive for the four o’clock table-d’hote.  In the evening there will be quite a little society, and we shall dance.  I assure you, monsieur, that we also know how to be gay at Chaudfontaine.”

“I don’t doubt it,” answered Graham; “and though I don’t care much about dancing——­”

“You don’t care about dancing?” interrupted the Belgian with astonishment; “but that is of your nation, Monsieur.  You are truly an extraordinary people, you English; you travel, you climb, you ride, you walk, and you do not dance!”

“I think we dance too, sometimes,” said the young Englishman, laughing; “but I own that it is walking I care for most just now—­the country about here seems to be wonderfully pretty.”

“In fact it is not bad,” said the Belgian, with the air of paying it a compliment; “and if you take care to return in time for the four o’clock table-d’hote, you cannot do better than make a little promenade to gain an appetite for dinner.  I can promise you an excellent one—­they keep an admirable cook.  I entreat you not to think of leaving for Brussels; and precisely you cannot go,” he added, drawing out his watch, “for it is just the hour that the train leaves, and I hear the whistle at this moment.”

And, in fact, though they could not see the train from where they stood, they heard its shrill whistle as it rushed into the station on the other side of the river.

“So it is decided,” said Graham, “and I remain.”

“And you do wisely, Monsieur,” cried his companion; “believe me, you will not regret passing a day in this charming little spot.  Do they speak much in England of Chaudfontaine, Monsieur?”

“Well, no,” Horace was obliged to acknowledge, “they do not.”

“Ah!” said the Belgian, a little disappointed; “but they speak of Brussels, perhaps?”

“Oh! yes, every one knows Brussels,” answered Graham.

“It is a beautiful city,” remarked his companion, “and has a brilliant society; but for my part, I own that at this season of the year I prefer the retirement, the tranquillity of Chaudfontaine, where also one amuses oneself perfectly well.  I always spend two or three months here—­in fact, have been here for six weeks already this summer.  Affairs called me to Aix-la-Chapelle last week for a few days, and that was how I had the good fortune to meet Monsieur last night.”