Zibeline's finesse had divined Henri's self-deception; her good-humor
sought to dissipate it; and her sprightliness was evidenced by her
allusions to M. Desvanneaux and the loss of her horse.

When they found themselves reunited at the dinner-hour, the Duchess said
simply to her brother:

"You must have received an invitation to-day from Mademoiselle de
Vermont. Will you accompany us tomorrow?"

"Yes, certainly. But where? How? At what hour?"

"We must leave here at one o'clock. Don't disturb yourself about any
other detail--we shall look after everything."

"Good! I accept."

As he was not so curious as the Desvanneaux, it mattered little to him to
what place they took him, so long as he should find Zibeline at the end
of the journey.

At the appointed hour the brother and sister drove to the Gare du Nord.
The Duke, a director of the road, who had been obliged to attend a
convocation of the Council until noon, had preceded them. He was waiting
for them beside the turnstile at the station, having already procured
their tickets and reserved a carriage in one of the omnibus trains from
Paris to Treport which make stops at various suburban stations.

"Will it be a very long journey?" Henri asked, on taking his place in
the carriage.