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Updated: June 2, 2025
"We have had many artists here," she declared; "many friends of monsieur, doubtless. Since monsieur is of that fine profession, his room will be but four francs daily; his dinner, three francs; his little breakfast, a franc alone." "Madame," I responded, "it is plain that the high cost of living, which terrorizes my country, does not exist at Bleau."
Second possibility: that Miss falconer, pausing at Bleau only en route, might already have departed, and that I would be left with my journey for my pains. Third: that the gray car had no connection with her; that she had some entirely blameless errand. I hoped so, I was sure.
The man in the blouse, who had performed the three functions of opening my compartment-door, carrying my bag to the gate, and relieving me of my ticket, achieved a thoroughly Gallic shrug. "Monsieur," said he, "what shall I tell you? The best hotel, the worst hotel these are one. There is only the Hotel des Trois Rois in the town of Bleau.
My rush from Paris to Bleau, in order, no doubt, that I might at an unostentatious spot join forces with my confederate, Miss Falconer, whom I had been meeting at intervals ever since we left New York in company, my behavior there, and the fashion in which we were vanishing should suffice to doom me as a spy.
I stood transfixed, watching from my post against the wall. As the car crept by the old majordomo, he saluted, and she spoke to him, bending forward for a moment to rest her fingers on his sleeve. "Be of courage, Marcel, my friend! All will be well if le bon Dieu wills it," I heard her say. Then to the chauffeur she added: "En avant, Georges! Vite, a Bleau!"
Of course the minute I heard her name I knew what she was crossing for." The dickens he did! "All I had to do was to follow her, and by the time we reached Bleau I had guessed enough to come ahead of her. But I'll admit, Mr. Bayne, now it's all over, it made me nervous to have you popping up at every turn! I began to think that you suspected me that you were trailing me.
For a stupid one, I thought they might be people whom the girl had come here to meet. Still, if they were, she wouldn't be looking at them in this paralyzed fashion. I could not see them plainly, but they must be the men from Bleau. "Well, Mr. Bayne," the foremost was asking, "did you think we had deserted you? Not a bit of it!
And since poor Georges can't help me now, I must go on alone." If I live to be a hundred, and it is not improbable since I am healthy, I shall never forget that little garden at the inn at Bleau. It was a vegetable garden too, which is not in itself romantic.
When I visioned myself explaining to a French commissaire why I had come to Bleau at all; why I had set up a false claim to be an artist, for that circumstance was sure to leak out and look darkly incriminating, and what had inspired me to take a murdered man's clothes and conceal his body, I can't pretend that I felt much zest.
The pamphlet war did not die out until Bleau, in 1670-71, printed his exact reproduction of the Trau manuscript and the corrections introduced by that licentiousness of emendation of which we have spoken. That this Du Pin had, while there, made the acquaintance of a certain Greek renegade, having, as a matter of fact, stayed in the house of this renegade.
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