CHAPTER XII

I take a Walk and visit Mademoiselle Catherine


In that year the summer was radiant, and I had a longing to go
walking. One day, strolling under the trees of the Cours-la-Reine
with two little crowns I had found that very morning in the pocket
of my breeches, and which were the first by which my goldmaker had
shown his munificence, I sat down at the door of a small coffee-
house, at a table so small that it was quite appropriate to my
solitude and modesty. Then I began to think of the oddness of my
destiny, while at my side some musketeers were drinking Spanish wine
with girls of the town. I was not quite sure that Croix-des-Sablons,
M. d'Asterac, Mosaide, the papyrus of Zosimus and my fine clothes
were not dreams, out of which I should wake to find myself clad in
the dimity vest, back again turning the spit at the _Queen
Pedauque_.

I came out of my reverie on feeling my sleeve pulled, and saw
standing before me Friar Ange, his face nearly hidden by his beard
and cowl.

"Monsieur Jacques Menetrier," he said in a very low voice, "a lady,
who wishes you well, expects you in her carriage on the highway,
between the river and the Porte de la Conference."