CHAPTER V

THE DRAMA BEGINS

Pierrotin's vehicle was now going down the steep incline of the valley
of Saint-Brice to the inn which stands in the middle of the large
village of that name, where Pierrotin was in the habit of stopping an
hour to breathe his horses, give them their oats, and water them. It
was now about half-past one o'clock.

"Ha! here's Pere Leger," cried the inn-keeper, when the coach pulled
up before the door. "Do you breakfast?"

"Always once a day," said the fat farmer; "and I'll break a crust here
and now."

"Give us a good breakfast," cried Georges, twirling his cane in a
cavalier manner which excited the admiration of poor Oscar.

But that admiration was turned to jealousy when he saw the gay
adventurer pull out from a side-pocket a small straw case, from which
he selected a light-colored cigar, which he proceeded to smoke on the
threshold of the inn door while waiting for breakfast.

"Do you smoke?" he asked of Oscar.

"Sometimes," replied the ex-schoolboy, swelling out his little chest
and assuming a jaunty air.