To resume.  The most hard-hearted person living will understand that two beings made for each other could not possibly part without an appointment to meet again.

I made arrangements for the accommodation of the lady in the village near Maison Rouge.  She consented to honor me with her company at supper, in my apartment at the stables, on the night of the twenty-ninth.  The time fixed on was the time when the other servants were accustomed to retire—­eleven o’clock.

Among the grooms attached to the stables was an Englishman, laid up with a broken leg.  His name was Francis.  His manners were repulsive; he was ignorant of the French language.  In the kitchen he went by the nickname of the “English Bear.”  Strange to say, he was a great favorite with my master and my mistress.  They even humored certain superstitious terrors to which this repulsive person was subject—­terrors into the nature of which I, as an advanced freethinker, never thought it worth my while to inquire.

On the evening of the twenty-eighth the Englishman, being a prey to the terrors which I have mentioned, requested that one of his fellow servants might sit up with him for that night only.  The wish that he expressed was backed by Mr. Fairbank’s authority.  Having already incurred my master’s displeasure—­in what way, a proper sense of my own dignity forbids me to relate—­I volunteered to watch by the bedside of the English Bear.  My object was to satisfy Mr. Fairbank that I bore no malice, on my side, after what had occurred between us.  The wretched Englishman passed a night of delirium.  Not understanding his barbarous language, I could only gather from his gesture that he was in deadly fear of some fancied apparition at his bedside.  From time to time, when this madman disturbed my slumbers, I quieted him by swearing at him.  This is the shortest and best way of dealing with persons in his condition.

On the morning of the twenty-ninth, Mr. Fairbank left us on a journey.  Later in the day, to my unspeakable disgust, I found that I had not done with the Englishman yet.  In Mr. Fairbank’s absence, Mrs. Fairbank took an incomprehensible interest in the question of my delirious fellow servant’s repose at night.  Again, one or the other of us was to watch at his bedside, and report it, if anything happened.  Expecting my fair friend to supper, it was necessary to make sure that the other servants at the stables would be safe in their beds that night.  Accordingly, I volunteered once more to be the man who kept watch.  Mrs. Fairbank complimented me on my humanity.  I possess great command over my feelings.  I accepted the compliment without a blush.

Twice, after nightfall, my mistress and the doctor (the last staying in the house in Mr. Fairbank’s absence) came to make inquiries.  Once before the arrival of my fair friend—­and once after.  On the second occasion (my apartment being next door to the Englishman’s) I was obliged to hide my charming guest in the harness room.  She consented, with angelic resignation, to immolate her dignity to the servile necessities of my position.  A more amiable woman (so far) I never met with!