"Be so good as to remember my name," replied Oscar, furious. "I am
Oscar Husson, and ten years hence I shall be famous."

After that speech, uttered with bombastic assumption, Oscar flung
himself back in his corner.

"Husson of what, of where?" asked Mistigris.

"It is a great family," replied the count. "Husson de la Cerisaie;
monsieur was born beneath the steps of the Imperial throne."

Oscar colored crimson to the roots of his hair, and was penetrated
through and through with a dreadful foreboding.

They were now about to descend the steep hill of La Cave, at the foot
of which, in a narrow valley, flanked by the forest of Saint-Martin,
stands the magnificent chateau of Presles.

"Messieurs," said the count, "I wish you every good fortune in your
various careers. Monsieur le colonel, make your peace with the King of
France; the Czerni-Georges ought not to snub the Bourbons. I have
nothing to wish for you, my dear Monsieur Schinner; your fame is
already won, and nobly won by splendid work. But you are much to be
feared in domestic life, and I, being a married man, dare not invite
you to my house. As for Monsieur Husson, he needs no protection; he
possesses the secrets of statesmen and can make them tremble. Monsieur
Leger is about to pluck the Comte de Serizy, and I can only exhort him
to do it with a firm hand. Pierrotin, put me out here, and pick me up
at the same place to-morrow," added the count, who then left the coach