With the patience of a cat watching a mouse
Corentin was there in the same place on the following morning,
attentive to the slightest noise, and subjecting the passers-by to the
closest examination. The day that was now beginning was a market-day.
Although in these calamitous times the peasants rarely risked
themselves in the towns, Corentin presently noticed a small man with a
gloomy face, wrapped in a goatskin, and carrying on his arm a small
flat basket; he was making his way in the direction of Mademoiselle de
Verneuil's house, casting careless glances about him. Corentin watched
him enter the house; then he ran down into the street, meaning to
waylay the man as he left; but on second thoughts it occurred to him
that if he called unexpectedly on Mademoiselle de Verneuil he might
surprise by a single glance the secret that was hidden in the basket
of the emissary. Besides, he had already learned that it was
impossible to extract anything from the inscrutable answers of Bretons
and Normans.
"Galope-Chopine!" cried Mademoiselle de Verneuil, when Francine
brought the man to her. "Does he love me?" she murmured to herself, in
a low voice.
The instinctive hope sent a brilliant color to her cheeks and joy into
her heart. Galope-Chopine looked alternately from the mistress to the
maid with evident distrust of the latter; but a sign from Mademoiselle
de Verneuil reassured him.
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