arrival.

'There is a neighbour of yours from Granpere in the house,' said
she.

'From Granpere? And who is he?'

'I forget the lad's name; but he says that your father is well, and
Madame Voss. He goes back early to-morrow with the roulage and some
goods that his people have bought. I think he is at supper now.'

The place of honour at the top of the table at the Colmar inn was
not in these days assumed by Madame Faragon. She had, alas, become
too stout to do so with either grace or comfort, and always took her
meals, as she always lived, in the little room downstairs, from
which she could see, through the apertures of two doors, all who
came in and all who went out by the chief entrance of the hotel.
Nor had George usurped the place. It had now happened at Colmar, as
it has come to pass at most hotels, that the public table is no
longer the table-d'hote. The end chair was occupied by a stout,
dark man, with a bald head and black beard, who was proudly filling
a place different from that of his neighbours, and who would
probably have gone over to the Hotel de l'Imperatrice had anybody
disturbed him. On the present occasion George seated himself next
to the lad, and they were soon discussing all the news from
Granpere.

'And how is Marie Bromar?' George asked at last.

'You have heard about her, of course,' said Edmond Greisse.