“I suppose he will follow the carriage?”

“He can go as he likes; that can’t make much difference to either of us.”

“You say she is young and pretty.”

“I have been told so, but I haven’t seen her myself.”

“What sort of a man is her companion?”

“He’s a fine man, but he can speak very little Italian.”

“Has he sold the lady’s horse?”

“No, it was hired.  He has only one trunk, which will go behind the carriage.”

“This is all very strange.  I shall not give any decision before speaking to this man.”

“I will tell him to wait on you.”

Directly afterwards, a brisk-looking young fellow, carrying himself well enough, and clad in a fancy uniform, came in.  He told me the tale I had heard from the coachman, and ended by saying that he was sure I would not refuse to accommodate his wife in my carriage.

“Your wife, sir?”

I saw he was a Frenchman, and I addressed him in French.

“God be praised!  You can speak my native tongue.  Yes, sir, she is an Englishwoman and my wife.  I am sure she will be no trouble to you.”

“Very good.  I don’t want to start later than I had arranged.  Will she be ready at five o’clock?”

“Certainly.”

The next morning when I got into my carriage, I found her already there.  I paid her some slight compliment, and sat down beside her, and we drove off.

CHAPTER XII

Miss Betty—­The Comte de L’Etoile—­Sir B * * * M * * *—­Reassured

This was the fourth adventure I had had of this kind.  There is nothing particularly out of the common in having a fellow-traveller in one’s carriage; this time, however, the affair had something decidedly romantic about it.

I was forty-five, and my purse contained two hundred sequins.  I still loved the fair sex, though my ardour had decreased, my experience had ripened, and my caution increased.  I was more like a heavy father than a young lover, and I limited myself to pretensions of the most modest character.

The young person beside me was pretty and gentle-looking, she was neatly though simply dressed in the English fashion, she was fair and small, and her budding breast could be seen outlined beneath the fine muslin of her dress.  She had all the appearances of modesty and noble birth, and something of virginal innocence, which inspired one with attachment and respect at the same time.

“I hope you can speak French madam?” I began.

“Yes, and a little Italian too.”

“I congratulate myself on having you for my travelling companion.”

“I think you should congratulate me.”

“I heard you came to Sienna on horseback.”

“Yes, but I will never do such a foolish thing again.”  “I think your husband would have been wise to sell his horse and buy a carriage.”