After about an hour the two men went back to the house.

Marouin wished to have the horses unsaddled, but Bonafoux objected, saying that he must go back to Toulon immediately after lunch.  Indeed, the coffee was hardly finished before he rose and took leave of his hosts.  Marouin, called back to town by his work, mounted his horse too, and the two friends rode back to Toulon together.  After riding along for ten minutes, Bonafoux went close to his companion and touched him on the thigh—­

“Marouin,” he said, “I have an important secret to confide to you.”

“Speak, captain.  After a father confessor, you know there is no one so discreet as a notary, and after a notary an avocat.”

“You can quite understand that I did not come to your country house just for the pleasure of the ride.  A more important object, a serious responsibility, preoccupied me; I have chosen you out of all my friends, believing that you were devoted enough to me to render me a great service.”

“You did well, captain.”

“Let us go straight to the point, as men who respect and trust each other should do.  My uncle, King Joachim, is proscribed, he has taken refuge with me; but he cannot remain there, for I am the first person they will suspect.  Your house is in an isolated position, and consequently we could not find a better retreat for him.  You must put it at our disposal until events enable the king to come to some decision.”

“It is at your service,” said Marouin.

“Right.  My uncle shall sleep there to-night.”

“But at least give me time to make some preparations worthy of my royal guest.”

“My poor Marouin, you are giving yourself unnecessary trouble, and making a vexatious delay for us:  King Joachim is no longer accustomed to palaces and courtiers; he is only too happy nowadays to find a cottage with a friend in it; besides, I have let him know about it, so sure was I of your answer.  He is counting on sleeping at your house to-night, and if I try to change his determination now he will see a refusal in what is only a postponement, and you will lose all the credit for your generous and noble action.  There—­it is agreed:  to-night at ten at the Champs de Mars.”

With these words the captain put his horse to a gallop and disappeared.  Marouin turned his horse and went back to his country house to give the necessary orders for the reception of a stranger whose name he did not mention.

At ten o’clock at night, as had been agreed, Marouin was on the Champs de Mars, then covered with Marshal Brune’s field-artillery.  No one had arrived yet.  He walked up and down between the gun-carriages until a functionary came to ask what he was doing.  He was hard put to it to find an answer:  a man is hardly likely to be wandering about in an artillery park at ten o’clock at night for the mere pleasure of the thing.  He asked to see the commanding officer.  The officer