Fortnoye. I was not long in amassing a quantity of discoveries. Going
back to the previous year, I found the signature of Fortnoye in March
and April; in July and September, Fortnoye bound up and down the
Rhine; in the depth of the winter, Monsieur Tonson-Fortnoye come
again! Evidently one of the most frequent guests of my delicate
Francine was the interpreter of _Cosmos_ in Strasburg, the
white-bearded mystifier of the champagne-cellar, the finest
singing-voice in Épernay.

[Illustration: THE CHURCHYARD LOVER.]

Toward ten o'clock, as I paced the little grove called the Oak Wood,
I saw at the miniature lake four persons, who were regaining the bank
after trying to detach the little boat moored by the shore. They were
just the four from our social table with whom I best agreed. I joined
the party, and, hooking now a friendly arm to the elbow of one, now
to that of another, I soon obtained all they had to communicate on
the subject which occupied my mind. Each knew Fortnoye intimately: the
result of my quadratic amounted to the following:

_First_. Fortnoye, educated at the Polytechnic School in Paris, is a
man of grave character and profound learning.

_Second_. Fortnoye is a roysterer, latterly occupied in extending the
connection of a champagne-house at Épernay. He is a Bohemian, even
a poet: he can rhyme, but strictly in the interests of commerce--he
composes only drinking-songs.

_Third_. Fortnoye is an exploded speculator, dismissed from the French
Board: obliged to beat a retreat to Belgium, he soon found himself in