perhaps young people are not what they used to be. But what ails my
niece? Now she is walking at a foot-pace like a gendarme on patrol in
the Paris streets. One might fancy she wanted to outflank that worthy
man, who looks to me like an author dreaming over his poetry, for he
has, I think, a notebook in his hand. My word, I am a great simpleton!
Is not that the very young man we are in search of!"

At this idea the old admiral moderated his horse's pace so as to
follow his niece without making any noise. He had played too many
pranks in the years 1771 and soon after, a time of our history when
gallantry was held in honor, not to guess at once that by the merest
chance Emilie had met the Unknown of the Sceaux gardens. In spite of
the film which age had drawn over his gray eyes, the Comte de
Kergarouet could recognize the signs of extreme agitation in his
niece, under the unmoved expression she tried to give to her features.
The girl's piercing eyes were fixed in a sort of dull amazement on the
stranger, who quietly walked on in front of her.

"Ay, that's it," thought the sailor. "She is following him as a pirate
follows a merchantman. Then, when she has lost sight of him, she will
be in despair at not knowing who it is she is in love with, and
whether he is a marquis or a shopkeeper. Really these young heads need
an old fogy like me always by their side . . ."

He unexpectedly spurred his horse in such a way as to make his niece's
bolt, and rode so hastily between her and the young man on foot that
he obliged him to fall back on to the grassy bank which rose from the
roadside. Then, abruptly drawing up, the Count exclaimed:

"Couldn't you get out of the way?"