HERMAN K . V IELE
 
 ACF
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon
 
 Thtrr were drops of ivattr in her hair.
 
 The Inn of the 
 Silver Moon 
 
 Herman Knickerbocker Viele 
 
 HERBERT S. STONE tf COMPANY 
 
 ELDRIDGE COURT, CHICAGO 
 
 MDCCCCI
 
 COPYRIGHT, IQOO, BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE &. CO.
 
 TO 
 
 THE FRIEND OF THE 
 
 JOURNEY' s END 
 
 AT THE INN OF THE 
 SILVER MOON 
 
 2061940
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 I. 
 
 "If you will refrain from talking all 
 at the same time, I will tell you every 
 thing that I know," said the gardener, 
 loftily, " and as it was I who last saw the 
 master alive, what I have to say may be 
 of some importance." 
 
 The gardener laid stress upon the ad 
 jective, and observing that the under 
 housemaid chanced to be occupied in 
 tying a pink string about the neck of 
 the cat, he waited until she had finished 
 before continuing. 
 
 " It must have been five o'clock, or a 
 trifle later. Monsieur was in the white 
 rose arbor taking his afternoon tea. I 
 was nearby, at the geranium bed, filling
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 in a cavern which Boy had pawed in 
 the very middle. I had been most care 
 ful to shut the beast in the tool house, 
 but as usual he had contrived to escape. 
 Just as I had finished resetting the 
 plants the master called 
 
 '"Paul/ he said, 'yesterday was the 
 day for clipping the poodle.' 
 
 '"That is true, Monsieur,' I answered, 
 'but by good fortune, I noticed that 
 the probabilities predicted it would be 
 cooler.' 
 
 " ' On the contrary,' he replied, ' it is 
 much warmer to-day. Why has it not 
 been done this morning?' 
 
 " I was obliged to explain that I had 
 not been able to find the clippers ; that, 
 in fact, this Image of Satan had hidden 
 them himself, as he always does on 
 Wednesdays." 
 
 The gardener shuffled his feet un 
 easily and looked about him to note 
 the effect of his disclosures.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "What else?" demanded the butler, 
 coldly. 
 
 "What else? Why nothing else. I 
 took the dog to the stable. That is all 
 I know." 
 
 " It is all you would be likely to 
 know," sniffed the butler, waving his 
 hand in stately dismissal. 
 
 " That does not settle the question of 
 dinner," said the cook as he bisected an 
 onion. 
 
 " The dinner will be served as usual !" 
 spoke the butler, as one having au 
 thority. 
 
 " But if Monsieur is not here to eat 
 it" 
 
 " That is not our affair." 
 
 In June, between the planting and the 
 harvest, there is held at Greslin a mar 
 ket, to which it was the custom in times 
 gone by for the farmers to bring the 
 surplus of young pigs from the spring 
 3
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 litters to be sold to the townpeople, 
 many of whom were glad to purchase 
 one or more to fatten in their gardens 
 during the summer. Of late years 
 changes in the methods of agriculture, 
 and more stringent sanitary regulations 
 against the keeping of pigs in towns, 
 have caused the abandonment of the 
 original purpose of the market ; but 
 the name is still preserved and the date 
 kept as a local fte, celebrated with 
 rustic games, and the attendant assem 
 bly of tombolas, carousals, and itiner 
 ant amusements of all kinds. A pig is 
 set at liberty in the market place, well 
 smeared with lard, to become the prop 
 erty of whomsoever may succeed in 
 catching him, and stalls for the sale of 
 charcuterie still reflect the origin of the 
 festival. All day the cabarets are filled 
 with thirsty rustics, and the red wine of 
 the country flows freely. In the even 
 ing there is a bonfire in the place and 
 4
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 dancing under the horse-chestnut trees 
 where the peasant girls vie in gaiety of 
 attire with their more sophisticated sis 
 ters of the government match factory, 
 and where for the hour the most frugal 
 man becomes a spendthrift, the most 
 sedate a gallant. 
 
 Of all the country side, Achille Vif our 
 alone had never seen the Market. 
 Often when after dinner 'the ladies had 
 withdrawn and the glow of Burgundy 
 fell warm upon the cloth, he had heard 
 his elders chuckle as they recalled some 
 old remembrance of the fair. Year by 
 year through the palings of the Chateau 
 wall he had seen the peasants hurrying 
 toward the town with laughter and 
 clumsy chaff ; night after night he had 
 heard them returning with new store of 
 wit and scraps of song learned from the 
 mummers, and at such times he would 
 vow that another year should see him 
 among the merry makers ; but with 
 5
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 every opportunity came a new reluc 
 tance, a fear lest a reputation earned 
 by years of studious habit and punctili 
 ous conformity to the demands of 
 his position, should be compromised. 
 Then, too, it is poor fun to go rioting 
 alone, and the popular impression that 
 Achille was superior to such frivolity 
 discouraged offers of companionship. 
 
 It is the way of the world that when 
 an individual once starts upon a career 
 of exemplary behavior, hands are not 
 wanting to accelerate his progress ; to 
 boost him, so to speak, from level to 
 level up the pyramid of Virtue till at 
 last he stands upon an eminence as un 
 comfortable as it is conspicuous. Thus 
 Achille was not only often overlooked 
 when adventure was afoot, but it was 
 expected of him that on a return from 
 a visit to the Capital, he should bring 
 intelligence of the latest movements in 
 literature and art ; that he should have 
 6
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 opinions touching the music at St. 
 Roche or even of the preaching at the 
 Madeleine, and shall he be blamed if it 
 was behind closed doors that his piano 
 gave forth echoes of the Cafe Chantant 
 or that the volumes picked up beneath 
 the arcades of the Odeon and Rue de 
 Rivoli were not conspicuously placed 
 upon his library shelves? 
 
 It was the day of the Pig Market and 
 Achille Vifour, having finished his tea, 
 placed the cup upon the iron table at 
 his elbow and looked from the white 
 rose arbor across his pleasant acres of 
 fruit and flowers, smooth turf and 
 snowy gravel. From any point of view 
 it was a charming garden, a trifle stiff 
 perhaps, a stranger might have said 
 but in the eyes of the young bourgeois 
 the place was a veritable Paradise. 
 Nevertheless as he rose and stepped 
 into the sunlight he regarded the 
 familiar scene with less than wonted
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 approbation, and stretched his limbs 
 with something like a yawn. 
 
 At the far end of the garden the high 
 enclosing wall gave place for the dis 
 tance of some thirty metres to an 
 equally high iron railing, divided into 
 panels by massive columns of masonry 
 on which were great stone balls. 
 Through this grille the passers-by 
 along the road beyond could see the 
 flowers and trees, and above them the 
 high-pitched, many-gabled roof of the 
 Chateau, with turret and pinnacle such 
 as bear the name of the merriest king 
 that ever lived the king who set old 
 France a laughing so that the smile has 
 not yet faded. 
 
 From the garden one could see the 
 world without, the great flat poplar- 
 studded world, flaming with poppies, 
 gay with gold wheat ; and the long 
 white road where the trees in double 
 ranks touched elbows like soldiers on 
 8
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 parade. Along the road ran well-paved 
 gutters, bordered by belts of close- 
 clipped grass. In all the land there 
 was not a bramble, a weed, or a foot of 
 idle earth. 
 
 As Achille looked far out across the 
 fertile -plain he shook his head and 
 sighed, then drawing from his pocket a 
 paper-covered book, he opened it and 
 turned to some passage that had caught 
 his fancy. The book was a translation 
 of a tale by Cooper and the passage a 
 description of scenery in the wilds of 
 the Horican. 
 
 'The river was confined between 
 high and cragged rocks, one of which 
 impended above the spot where the 
 canoe rested. As these again were sur 
 mounted by tall trees which appeared to 
 totter on the brows of the precipice ' 
 
 Achille looked out again. 
 
 " It must be altogether different," he 
 said.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 He might have continued his read 
 ing, but seeing ahead a mention of one 
 Chingachgook, a character for whom 
 he entertained an unreasoning dislike 
 on account of his name, he closed the 
 book, and turned again to watch the 
 moving shadows, the infinite lines of 
 trees, and the pleasant reaches of the 
 distant river Loup. Sometimes when 
 the breeze veered a little to the south 
 it brought the sound of music from the 
 town. 
 
 Presently the round - shouldered, 
 pigeon-toed postman came trudging 
 along beneath the trees. With his 
 scrip and staff he might have been a 
 pilgrim who wore for penance a heavy, 
 closely-buttoned woolen coat of winter 
 above the cotton trousers of July. See 
 ing Achille through the grating, the 
 man unslung his mail-bag, and ap 
 proaching made a military salute. 
 
 " Shall I ring?" he asked respectfully, 
 10
 
 Would Monsieur take his letter himself f
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "or would Monsieur desire to take his 
 letter himself?" 
 
 " I will take it," said Achille. " Have 
 you but one?" 
 
 " Only one for the moment, Monsieur. 
 There are doubtless others, but every 
 one at Greslin is completely insane on 
 account of the Pig Market. Monsieur 
 is going to the Pig Market no? Ah, 
 it is a spectacle! It is like Paris. One 
 cannot hear himself speak for the 
 noise, and all the world is intoxicated. 
 Monsieur would find it very agree 
 able." 
 
 "Without doubt," assented Achille. 
 " Give me my letter, and hurry back. 
 Here is something to help you make up 
 for lost time." 
 
 " Monsieur is amiable. Au revoir, 
 Monsieur." 
 
 Achille retired with his letter to a 
 shady seat near by, and broke the seal. 
 The bees buzzed persistently, a cricket 
 
 IX
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 chirped in the wall ; from the torture 
 chamber came the plaintive moans of 
 Boy and the soothing voice of Paul 
 
 " Have grace, my brave one, till I 
 have finished thy stomach. Keep thy 
 paw in thy pocket or I may cut off thy 
 beautiful wristlets." 
 
 The letter was a long one, and after 
 a paragraph or two of formal compli 
 ment ran thus: 
 
 " It was only yesterday that I was so 
 fortunate as to obtain the long promised 
 interview with Madame la Marquise de 
 Banville. As you have doubtless been 
 informed, Madame is a victim to neu 
 rasthenia in its most aggravated form, 
 and is therefore seldom permitted by 
 her physician to do anything that is not 
 amusing. As this was my seventh visit, 
 each by special appointment, you may 
 picture to yourself my joy at being told 
 that I was at last to be admitted. It 
 was the first time that I have had the 
 
 12
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 honor of meeting Madame, and though 
 they tell me that she has changed 
 greatly since the days of the Empire, I 
 would swear that she still retains much 
 of her youthful vivacity. From the 
 anteroom I could not help hearing the 
 remark with which my card was re 
 ceived. 'It is that pig of a notary!' 
 she exclaimed, ' I suppose he will never 
 stop coming till I see him. Admit him, 
 and if he stays more than five minutes, 
 announce the doctor.' 
 
 " You may be sure that I stated my 
 errand without unnecessary delay. Her 
 answers, I must confess, were both 
 evasive and unsatisfactory. To be 
 brief, my friend, the Marquise refuses 
 to consider your engagement to her 
 niece as serious, avowing that both 
 your late respected father, and her 
 brother, had been dining generously 
 on the occasion when the pledge was 
 made that was to join your infant hand 
 13
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 with that of Mdlle. de Belle Isle. She 
 insists further, pardon my frankness, 
 but it is best that you should know the 
 whole truth, that you must be a rustic 
 in a blue blouse with trousers' pockets 
 large enough to carry wine bottles, and 
 that you doubtless misuse your knife at 
 the table. 
 
 " Madame was, however, good enough 
 to say if the young lady upon seeing 
 you should express a wish to become 
 your wife, she herself would make no 
 objections ; provided that upon investi 
 gation, your fortune proved to be as 
 represented ; and added that she ex 
 pected you to keep clear of all entan 
 glements until such time as it might be 
 convenient for her to arrange a meet 
 ing. In a word, that she would con 
 sider you as bound while the young 
 woman remained free to choose for 
 herself. 
 
 "As I was about to protest warmly 
 14
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 against the unfairness of this proposi 
 tion, the doctor was announced." 
 
 "It is preposterous!" cried Achille. 
 " Here am I, leading the life of a her 
 mit in obedience to my father's wish, 
 while this old woman is at liberty to 
 treat my name and estate like parcels 
 from the Bon March&i to be returned if 
 unsatisfactory !" 
 
 So saying he turned once more to the 
 letter in his hand, a page of which re 
 mained unread. 
 
 "Concerning Mdlle. de Belle Isle, I 
 regret that I have been able to ob 
 tain but the most meagre information. 
 Though nearly twenty years of age the 
 young lady is still at the convent, the 
 fifth at which her education has been 
 conducted, and as each successive in 
 stitution appears to have been more 
 positive in its piety than the last, I fear 
 that she may have a leaning towards 
 the religious life. 
 
 15
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Through the intervention of my 
 brother's wife, I have spoken with the 
 good Mother Superior of the convent 
 before last, but all that she could be in 
 duced to say in answer to the most deli 
 cate questioning was, 'Ah! Mademoi 
 selle de Belle Isle !' raising her eyes to 
 heaven. When I ventured to touch 
 upon the question of personal appear 
 ance she answered only 'Beauty is not 
 everything 
 
 "Which is to say," muttered Achille, 
 tearing the letter, and scattering the 
 fragments to the wind regardless of the 
 spotless turf "Which is to say, that 
 I have the honor to be betrothed to a 
 camel who dresses like an English 
 woman and observes the canonical 
 hours! . . . Ah! what forethought 
 on the part of parents ! What a beau 
 tiful system !" 
 
 Taking up the yellow book, he flour 
 ished it in the air. 
 
 16
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "It would be better," he cried "to 
 be a savage like this Cooper ; this 
 Uncas ; this Sacred Chin-gach-gook ! 
 Better shoot the Wampum, track the 
 Tomahawk to its lair, and hurl the 
 deadly Moccasin. . . Parbleu! what 
 have I done !" 
 
 Achille had not meant literally to 
 hurl anything, but in his excitement the 
 yellow book flew from his grasp, and 
 skimming the palings lighted in the 
 very middle of the white road directly 
 in the path of two ladies upon bicycles 
 who chanced to be approaching. 
 
 Both ladies screamed, and the 
 younger losing her balance dismounted 
 hurriedly. Achille rushed to the bars 
 with many protestations of regret, but 
 the lady who was still awheel only 
 elevated her chin disapprovingly as she 
 described a figure eight upon the road 
 while waiting for her companion to re 
 mount. She was a comely woman a 
 17
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 trifle plump perhaps for knickerbock 
 ers but she rode gracefully, and 
 Achille would have persisted in his de 
 mands for pardon had not the other, 
 turning suddenly toward him, caused 
 him to forget everything else. 
 
 It was as if the prismatic universe 
 came in an instant to a focus ; as if all 
 the gold of the wheat were suddenly 
 concentrated in one bright aureole of 
 blonde hair beneath which all the blue 
 of the sky shone from two laughing 
 eyes. It was as if all the green of the 
 earth had condensed itself into one 
 tailor-made costume, and the varied 
 colors of the cultivated fields had 
 shrunk to the dimensions of a pair of 
 Scotch plaid stockings. 
 
 The lady seemed much amused, and 
 when her companion called to her, 
 " Let us hurry on, this is doubtless a 
 private lunatic asylum," she only smiled 
 the more sweetly, and then to Achille's 
 18
 
 - 
 
 She stopped and picked up the book.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 amazement stooped, and, picking up 
 the "Last of the Mohicans" from where 
 it lay, advanced toward him trundling 
 her wheel by the handle, and laid the 
 volume in his hand 
 
 "Monsieur has lost his book," she 
 said softly, blushing as she spoke. " It 
 is fortunate that we chanced to be 
 near." 
 
 Before he could bring himself to utter 
 a word she had mounted and ridden 
 away. As she joined her friend he 
 thought he heard her say: 
 
 " He seems perfectly harmless." 
 
 Achille watched the figures till they 
 were out of sight. Once he fancied that 
 the slighter of the two turned and 
 looked back and he waved his hand, 
 but in a moment regretted an action 
 that might be misconstrued into further 
 evidence of an unsound mind. 
 
 He concealed the Story of Uncas in 
 the hollow of a statue representing the 
 19
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 God of Love, and, reasoning that the 
 ladies could not possibly have come 
 from a great distance, set about devis 
 ing plans for the establishment of their 
 identity that would have been creditable 
 to the Bureau of Secret Information. 
 Had he followed his first impulse he 
 would undoubtedly have ordered the 
 English dog-cart, and in the course of 
 a drive stopped casually at the sign of 
 the Gol.den Cat, whose landlady was 
 a specialist in the doings of the local 
 gentry; but realizing the futility of the 
 most subtle diplomacy during the 
 progress of the Market, he abandoned 
 the idea and, chafing under the burden 
 of enforced inaction, paced to and fro 
 behind the grating with the exagger 
 ated disquiet of a zoological specimen. 
 "Pshaw!" he cried, "I am rapidly 
 becoming the lunatic for which she took 
 me!" and with an effort to regain the 
 contentment of the early afternoon he 
 20
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 left the grating. But the garden had 
 become an assortment of vegetables 
 stupidly growing in highly fertilized 
 earth, the cricket a noisy imbecile, the 
 bee an intolerable bore, and at last, un 
 able to endure the exasperating calm 
 ness of nature, he opened the great 
 gate and stepped out upon the highway. 
 
 There lay the road straight and level 
 as a bowling alley, with the trees like 
 misplaced tenpins along the side ; 
 beyond, the fiat fields took on new flat 
 ness, the river stretched motionless as a 
 sleeping snake. 
 
 "Ah '."sighed the young man, "the 
 road is like my life. It has a stone for 
 every hundred metres. Ah, if one 
 might but sometimes lose the way! " 
 
 Beyond the nearest meadow, a line of 
 willows marked the course of a small 
 stream, the little river Loup, and among 
 them nestled the low, red-tiled roof of 
 a washing shed. The sight of this 
 
 21
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 brought to his mind a pleasant sugges 
 tion of cool water, and as he knew that 
 all the accessories to a comfortable 
 plunge were there he welcomed the 
 thought as an inspiration. 
 
 Achille splashed for awhile in water 
 scarcely above his waist, and then seek 
 ing more adventurous sport moved 
 down the stream to a pool behind the 
 willow patch in which a man might 
 swim without encountering the sandy 
 bottom. Here, tempted by the sun 
 shine, he prolonged his bath beyond its 
 usual limits; and when, at last, he 
 waded back, shaking the water from 
 hair and eyes, he did not at first observe 
 that some one had come to the washing 
 shed during his absence. 
 
 "Hello! "he cried, when he saw he 
 
 was not alone. "Hello! Sacre 
 
 Bleu!" 
 
 The stranger wore his clothes, his 
 favorite pearl gray suit and his broad- 
 
 22
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 brimmed straw hat; even his violet 
 necktie and his patent leather shoes. 
 
 "Sacre Bleu!" he repeated. "What 
 is the meaning of this?" 
 
 " Do not be disturbed," said the 
 stranger, lightly, " I have only taken the 
 liberty of borrowing from your ward 
 robe to attend the fete. It is possible 
 that I may return the clothes later 
 unless I find that I am becoming 
 attached to them; at any rate, Monsieur 
 has doubtless many more, and I will 
 gladly place my own apparel at his dis 
 posal. I hope that he will consider my 
 humble outfit as his own for the time 
 being. I would also suggest that as the 
 evening is getting chilly, and as ladies 
 might pass at any moment, Monsieur 
 should lose no time in making his toilet. 
 I have tied knots in the arms of the 
 blouse and in the legs of the pantaloons 
 which will detain Monsieur some little 
 time and prevent any impetuosity on 
 23
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 his part in the matter of pursuit, which 
 might be unpleasant for both of us. 
 My address, by the way, is the Inn of 
 the Silver Moon. Pray bear it in mind. 
 I have the honor to say au revoir; a 
 plaisir!" 
 
 So saying the stranger lifted the 
 broad-brimmed hat and sauntered 
 leisurely away.
 
 II 
 
 Apparently there was no choice for 
 Achille but to put on the garments 
 left him by the stranger. It would 
 have been futile to look to the 
 Chateau for assistance, for his voice 
 could not have been heard beyond 
 the outer gate; and knowing well 
 the rapidity with which the story 
 of his mishap, once started, would 
 spread throughout the small com 
 munity, he did not care to attract the 
 attention of chance passers along the 
 road. Amused, in spite of himself, at 
 his predicament, he laboriously untied 
 the knots, and at last, an excellent 
 counterfeit of a needy workman, he 
 laughed heartily at his own reflection in 
 the stream. 
 
 He had fortunately taken the precau- 
 25
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 tion to hide his pocketbook with his 
 watch and keys in a crevice in the wall 
 where they had escaped the notice of 
 the thief, and, the first flush of indigna 
 tion passed, he argued that it might be 
 the part of wisdom to let the criminal 
 go unpunished rather than furnish 
 material for the merriment of his 
 friends. 
 
 Sitting upon the edge of a linen 
 barrow Achille looked the matter 
 fairly in the face. Evidently he must 
 delay his return to the Chateau until 
 dark, and still it seemed imprudent to 
 remain in a place where the servants on 
 discovering his absence would be sure 
 to seek him . . . Suddenly a light 
 broke on his puzzled meditations . . . 
 Surely there was nothing to prevent a 
 shabby young workman passing an hour 
 or two at the Pig Market, where among 
 the throng there were many who knew 
 which chateau of the neighborhood 
 26
 
 My address is the Inn of the Silver Moon.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 sheltered a guest much given to bi 
 cycling and Scotch plaid. 
 
 With the stealthy tread of an intelli 
 gent Mohican, Achille followed the 
 river bank until a kilometre lay between 
 him and the garden gate; then, crossing 
 the fields to the road, he adopted what 
 he conceived to be the bearing of an 
 artisan upon a holiday, and struck out 
 toward Greslin, singing as he went. 
 
 The young man sung at first because 
 he considered song to be in keeping 
 with his role, but presently he found 
 himself singing from very lightness of 
 heart, and smiled as he recalled the 
 refrain of an old Provencal ditty to 
 recognize in it the meaning of the 
 address given by the stranger 
 
 What care if the day 
 
 Be turned to gray, 
 
 What care if the night come soon. 
 
 We may choose the pace 
 
 Who bow for grace 
 
 At the Inn of the Silver Moon. 
 
 27
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Ah, hurrying sirs, 
 
 Drive deep your spurs, 
 
 For it's far to the steepled town 
 
 Where the wallet's weight 
 
 Shall fix your state 
 
 And buy for ye smile or frown. 
 Through our tiles of green 
 Do the stars between 
 
 Laugh down from the skies of June, 
 
 And there's naught to pay 
 
 For a couch of hay 
 
 At the Inn of the Silver Moon. 
 
 You laboring lout, 
 
 Pull out, pull out, 
 
 With a hand to the creaking tire, 
 
 For it's many a mile 
 
 By path and stile 
 
 To the old wife crouched by the fire 
 
 But the door is wide 
 
 In the hedgerow side 
 
 And they ask not bowl nor spoon, 
 
 Whose draught of must 
 
 Makes soft the crust 
 
 At the Inn of the Silver Moon. 
 
 Then here's to the Inn 
 
 Of the empty bin; 
 
 To the Host of the trackless dune, 
 
 And here's to the friend 
 
 Of the journey's end 
 
 At the Inn of the Silver Moon. 
 
 Before the song was ended Achille had 
 covered half the distance to Greslin. 
 28
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 As he walked between the trees he 
 recalled that she, his fair green lady, 
 had passed there not many hours be 
 fore. At the bridge, where the little 
 river Loup crosses the road, he paused 
 to wonder if she had rested upon the 
 broad stone parapet. As he climbed 
 the long hill to the town he thought of 
 her and pictured her beside him; not 
 the princess that she must be, but a girl 
 of the people, and he the vagabond that 
 his dress proclaimed him. He pictured 
 them, this humble couple, as being very 
 poor, depending on a fiddle and a tam 
 bourine for sous and supper. He pic 
 tured one impossibility after another, 
 changing scene and circumstance to 
 suit his fancy, but in all his pictures they 
 two were hand in hand. 
 
 On the outskirts of Greslin the high 
 way is joined by another of less impor 
 tance, coming from the hills, the borders 
 of the forest, and the stony uplands 
 29
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 called by the peasants "Purgatory"; 
 and at this meeting of the ways there 
 stands, on one hand the village octroi, 
 and on the other an uninviting wine 
 shop that has above its door the 
 " carrot " of the tobacco license, and the 
 withered bush that proclaims the debit 
 des boissons. 
 
 As Achille approached this suburb 
 he noticed that the entire male popula 
 tion was gathered about the door of a 
 low shed adjoining the tavern, before 
 which a red stain upon the road, and 
 some fragments of glass neatly swept 
 together in the gutter, announced that 
 a bottle of wine had been recently 
 broken. The young man joined the 
 group of blue blouses and, as the 
 attraction that had drawn them to 
 gether was evidently upon the wane, 
 had little difficulty in forcing himself to 1 
 the front. 
 
 Upon the straw within, the landlord 
 30
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 knelt beside a prostrate shape, which 
 Achille thought at first must be that of 
 a wounded animal, but which, when his 
 eyes became accustomed to the light, 
 he recognized as a bicycle with its 
 forward tire in a state of collapse. 
 
 "Was any one hurt?" he demanded, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " Hurt! not she," growled the land 
 lord, resentfully, without looking up. 
 " But the question is, where am I to 
 put my donkey? He cannot remain on 
 the road; he cannot sleep in the bed 
 with my children, and here there is not 
 room for both. Now she has gone away, 
 without so much as buying a drink, 
 leaving me with this sacred machine. 
 How do I know that I shall see one of 
 them again? How do I know that I 
 shall be paid for my trouble?" 
 
 " But the owner, the lady, who was 
 she?" cried Achille, impatiently. 
 
 " How can I tell who she was?" 
 31
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "What was she like?" 
 
 " How do I know! these imbecile 
 rich are all alike. When they are fat 
 they tie themselves in; when they are 
 thin they stuff themselves out . . . 
 Hey! what are you doing in my shed, 
 who told you to come in? " 
 
 Achille had, in his eagerness to learn 
 the particulars of the accident, advanced 
 beyond the threshold, and the irate 
 publican, observing for the first time 
 the intrusion of an unpromisingstranger, 
 turned upon him angrily 
 
 " What do you want poking your 
 nose into other people's sheds? Par- 
 bleu, I've seen such prowling fellows as 
 you taken in hand by the gendarmes." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Achille, who had 
 yet to learn that the poor speak plainly. 
 " Pardon me, but I am greatly interested 
 in this lady." 
 
 "Oh, you are, my boy!" sniffed the 
 other, scornfully. " Well, I don't recall 
 32
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 that the lady expressed any great interest 
 in you. You had better go home and 
 make yourself a little more chic if you 
 are after the girls." 
 
 The men about the door laughed, and 
 Achille, anxious to make the best of an 
 awkward situation, said: 
 
 " I suppose that I can get a glass of 
 grog?" 
 
 The landlord shrugged his shoulders, 
 and made the gesture of one who rubs 
 a coin between his thumb and fore 
 finger. 
 
 In the low, bare taproom a stout 
 carter slept, sitting bolt upright on 
 a wooden bench, with his whip and 
 a half-finished tumbler of spirits before 
 him on the table. Behind the bar, a 
 round-faced girl smiled officially. 
 
 She said "good day," and asked 
 what Monsieur desired. Monsieur de 
 sired cr&me de menthe, but Monsieur did 
 not get it. In its place he took apple 
 33
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 brandy. The girl had seen the acci 
 dent. It was no great thing. Two 
 ladies had gone past toward Greslin on 
 their wheels, and in half an hour she 
 had seen them coming back. A moment 
 before, someone had dropped a wine 
 bottle, and the road was covered with 
 glass. People are so stupid! if bicycles 
 were shod with iron like carriages such 
 things would not occur. Fancy, a little 
 piece of glass had made the machine 
 completely useless! It had been the 
 machine of the younger lady that was 
 injured that is, if you might call her 
 young, when it was so easy to buy a 
 yellow wig. After the accident there 
 had been a great commotion. The 
 elder lady had been very much agitated, 
 and had insisted upon hiring the land 
 lord's donkey, or the hay wagon of the 
 carter. No one can tell what might 
 have happened if the gentleman had 
 not arrived. 
 
 34
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "What was the gentleman like?" 
 asked the listener carelessly. 
 
 " Oh, very elegant; something like 
 this Monsieur Vifour at the Chateau, 
 but with more air, more spirit," ex 
 plained the girl, adding that the gentle 
 man had talked a great deal with the 
 ladies, and that they had all three gone 
 back to Greslin. To her mind the 
 whole affair was very droll. 
 
 Achille paid for the brandy, which he 
 had slily poured into the glass of the 
 sleeping carter, and turned to go. 
 
 " Have you been to the Pig Market?" 
 he asked, affably, as he received his 
 change. 
 
 " Not yet, Monsieur," replied the 
 maiden looking down, " but this evening 
 when the dancing begins, perhaps, if 
 anyone cared to look near the fountain 
 in the corner of the place . . . 
 
 Achille did not stay to learn what 
 attraction one might expect to find at 
 35
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 the fountain, and as he raised his cap in 
 parting salutation, the girl added, irrel 
 evantly " Me, I am engaged for every 
 dance." 
 
 About the place of Greslin, in a hol 
 low square, are two ranks of close- 
 clipped chestnut trees. The long cool 
 alleys beneath are usually silent as the 
 arches of a cloister. There are benches 
 in the shadow, but they are rarely used. 
 There is a fountain in the corner, built 
 to commemorate a forgotten man who 
 wrote a forgotten book; but the basin 
 is empty, and in a land of wine the 
 water is not missed. An old man with 
 a broom of twigs sweeps up the brown 
 leaves as they fall, and gathers them 
 into a bag. In the autumn, when there 
 has been a frost, his son helps him and 
 they have a horse and a blue cart. It 
 is very quiet under the trees, and when 
 the priest walks there he draws a small 
 book from the breast of his black cas- 
 36
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 sock and reads, and the good sisters, 
 crossing from the convent to the church, 
 bow their heads while their lips move 
 silently. The children coming home 
 from school go round another way, for 
 the old man with a broom is known to 
 hold strong views on the subjects of 
 sabots and white gravel, and the soldiers 
 prefer the outer pavements, either on 
 the side of the Golden Cat, or on that 
 of the Coin of France. Commonly the 
 place is as sacred to fleckless order as a 
 New England parlor. 
 
 Achille shared in the respect of the 
 townspeople for this their municipal 
 best room, and experienced a feeling 
 of indignation when the desecration 
 wrought by the Pig Market dawned 
 upon him. 
 
 Beneath the chestnut trees, grim and 
 erect as policemen at an opera ball, 
 were a score of tents and booths flam 
 ing with gaudy banners and impossible 
 37
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 cartoons, while before each door drums 
 were beaten or men and women in 
 spangles or cotton tights told shrilly of 
 the marvels to be seen within. In the 
 open a Strong Man tossed cannon balls 
 into the air as though they had been 
 melons, trusting for reward to voluntary 
 contribution. Young women hurried to 
 and f^o selling bonbons and paper 
 windmills, and older women offered 
 rosaries and pictures of the saints. 
 Somewhere rifles were cracking in a 
 shooting gallery; from another direc 
 tion came the noise of a steam piano, 
 which shrieked with insane hilarity. 
 Everywhere were squads of awkward 
 peasants, lurching aimlessly from booth 
 to booth, eager to be deceived and 
 cunning to resent deception ; their 
 red hands deep in cavernous pockets, 
 guarding greasy sous which they longed 
 to spend; praying in the same breath 
 for temptation to overcome their avarice, 
 38
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and for new strength of avarice to resist 
 temptation. There was little talking 
 and less laughter, but upon every face, 
 rosy or wrinkled, was the look of 
 beatified satisfaction that is the national 
 symbol of a fete. 
 
 Achille stood still, unable for the 
 moment to collect his thoughts amid 
 the changes that had come to the 
 familiar place. 
 
 " Try your strength with the sledge 
 hammer! " shouted a voice to the right. 
 
 " Buy a ticket for a trip on the Rus 
 sian Mountains!" cried one to the left. 
 
 " Gentlemen and ladies ! " bawled 
 another, " the Lion Tamer is about to 
 enter the den! " 
 
 Achille joined a group attracted by 
 the dancing bear, and when the tam 
 bourine came round threw in a piece of 
 fifty centimes, more because the solic 
 itor was pleasing than to mark his 
 appreciation of the efforts of the beast. 
 39
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Some young men who had seen the 
 silver slapped him on the back and 
 cried, jovially: 
 
 "Ah, comrade, you have sold your 
 pig! Come along and pay us a drink!" 
 
 "Why should I?" demanded Achille, 
 but not illnaturedly. 
 
 " Oh, if you can afford to squander 
 ten sous on an imbecile bear, you might 
 spend a franc on some fellow work 
 men." 
 
 " As to that, I will willingly stand a 
 bock all round," said Achille laughing, 
 and with a gesture of the arm, recalled 
 from convivial peasants upon the 
 theatrical stage, he led the way toward 
 the nearest cabaret. 
 
 As he stood with his guests at the bar 
 of the humble drinking shop, one of the 
 men asked: 
 
 " What trade have you, my little 
 brother? Your hands are as white as 
 those of a baby." 
 
 40
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " I am a jeweler," answered Achille, 
 raising his glass, and pleased to discover 
 in himself a talent for deception not 
 before suspected. 
 
 "It is a good trade," said another, 
 adding slily, " and one that must have 
 its opportunities." 
 
 " It has," assented Achille, doubtfully, 
 fearing that too great contentment with 
 his lot might arouse suspicion as to his 
 .right to wear a blouse, " it has, but then 
 there are many drawbacks." 
 
 "Ah, I suppose so," sighed the first, 
 sympathetically, and glancing cautious 
 ly over his shoulder, " I suppose so. 
 One can never be sure. Well, I wish 
 you good luck! Some time when I am 
 flush it will be my turn to treat. Au 
 revoir, little brother, you need have no 
 fear of the gendarmes; but for your 
 hands and your clean collar I should 
 have taken you for a field hand." 
 
 Achille did not attempt to correct the 
 41
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 unjust impression he had given as to 
 his moral character, but he resolved on 
 parting from his fellow toilers to adopt 
 another calling should occasion arise. 
 Then, mingling with the multitude, he 
 allowed himself to drift with the current 
 from one attraction to another, with 
 eyes and ears alert in eager anticipation 
 of the advent of the unexpected. 
 
 Before the door of the Golden Cat 
 the garrison of small tables, recruited 
 in honor of the fete from a platoon to 
 a battalion composed largely of con 
 scripts from garret and kitchen, had 
 spread in undisciplined ranks far out 
 in the roadway. Among the tables 
 were gathered assorted generations of 
 prosperous townsfolk, and well-to-do 
 farmers with their families over beer 
 or orgeat, absinthe or syrup of cherries. 
 Here and there sat representatives of 
 the more liberal country families; or a 
 knot of officers in smart uniform. At 
 42
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 one table a young priest with his old 
 mother; at another a painter with a 
 beautiful girl one would have said 
 that at last had dawned the millennium 
 of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity. 
 
 43
 
 Ill 
 
 Achille, as his eyes wandered from 
 group to group, recognized many faces 
 familiar in his daily life. There were 
 the Courvoisers, male and female, with 
 whom he was to dine on Sunday. 
 There was little Bleauvelt of the Line, 
 who was to breakfast with him on 
 Saturday. There was the saddler and 
 the man who had promised to mend 
 the garden pump. It was amusing that 
 they should not know him, and he 
 laughed inwardly at the humor of the 
 situation. But the laugh was of short 
 duration, for at a far table, so close to 
 the white wall of the Golden Cat as to 
 be within the shadow of the iron 
 balcony, the vision rose before him of a 
 broad-brimmed straw hat with a white 
 45
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 ribbon about it, and beneath, the shoul 
 ders of a pearl-grey coat and a necktie 
 of lavender. 
 
 At the sight his sleeping indignation 
 awoke with renewed strength, he forgot 
 the course of clemency on which he 
 had resolved, forgot the possible conse 
 quences of publicity, and forcing a 
 passage through intertabulary spaces, 
 before whose narrow limits a waiter 
 would have hesitated, made his way to 
 ward the broad straw hat. 
 
 Achille had read that a guilty con 
 science may often be counted on to 
 take much trouble off the hands of an 
 avenger, and he reasoned that it would 
 be well to give a guilty conscience 
 every opportunity; but when at length 
 he stood within a few paces of the 
 object of his righteous wrath, the im 
 pulse that impelled the charge had 
 in a measure cooled, and he regretted 
 that he had not called upon the civil 
 46
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 authorities for assistance. He regretted 
 it still more as he became aware that 
 the stranger was not alone, but seated 
 in the company of two women of 
 apparent respectability. Their faces 
 were turned from him, but their backs 
 were neat and their head covering in 
 conspicuous, and when he lowered his 
 eyes in search of further detail they fell 
 upon a pair of Scotch plaid stockings 
 clearly visible beneath the table! 
 
 " Have a care who you shove! " cried 
 the saddler, who felt his shoulder 
 rudely clutched. 
 
 " Monsieur is not polite!" exclaimed 
 the mender of pumps, replacing his hat. 
 
 Achille felt that public patience had 
 reached its limit during his advance. 
 Before him the unexpected grinned 
 with fiendish mockery. To right and 
 left the saddler and the pump mender 
 grew visibly anxious that he should 
 move on. 
 
 47
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "Image of a pig!" he muttered glar 
 ing at the author of his discomfort. 
 
 The image of a pig was not so deeply 
 engrossed in his companions as to be 
 oblivious to what was taking place 
 about him. He had observed the com 
 ing of the shabby figure, and now, to 
 Achille's amazement, he rose, and after 
 a few hurried words to the ladies, 
 came forward as rapidly as circum 
 stances would permit; upon his face a 
 smile of ready recognition and in his 
 bearing the evidence of a lively satis 
 faction. 
 
 "Not a word!" he whispered, when 
 near enough to be heard, at the same 
 time holding up a warning hand. " Not 
 a word! I am in disguise." 
 
 " You are in my clothes ! " retorted 
 Achille fiercely. " It is I who am in 
 disguise! " 
 
 " I am so glad that you have come," 
 went on the stranger, still in a whisper. 
 48
 
 :"*> 
 
 The Pig Market,
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " I did not discover your little joke till 
 I had gone two kilos, and then it was 
 scarcely worth while to return. I sup 
 posed, of course, that it was a pleas 
 antry, and now that you are here I am 
 sure of it." 
 
 "A pleasantry!" 
 
 " Yes, about the money. I was aston 
 ished to find the pockets of these excel 
 lent clothes empty, and the circum 
 stance has caused me some annoyance, 
 but Pierre Rabot can take a joke as 
 well as the next, and we will say no 
 more about it." 
 
 " Do you suppose that I would be so 
 foolish as to leave money in my pockets 
 where such a fellow as you could get it ? " 
 
 " One can never tell, but of course 
 you know, the better one is dressed the 
 more essential money becomes. You 
 must have been greatly amused at 
 the situation. I can fancy how you 
 laughed!" 
 
 49
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Can you, indeed ! I assure 
 you. . ." 
 
 " Come, come, no apologies ! It is 
 not a joke that I should have played 
 myself, but then, fun is more primitive 
 in the country . . . more elemen 
 tary, shall we say ? And now that you 
 are here . . ." 
 
 " Do you imagine for an instant that 
 I have come to give you my money!" 
 cried Achille, allowing amazement at 
 this new impertinence to divert him 
 from the original offence. 
 
 "Oh, as to that it shall be as you 
 please," returned the other with dig 
 nity. " If you prefer to act as banker I 
 shall be perfectly satisfied. By the 
 way, my charming friend the Countess 
 de Salviac has just this moment been 
 speaking very pleasantly of you. It 
 appears that she passed your chateau 
 this afternoon and saw you at the gate. 
 She was en bicyclette, and with the Bar- 
 50
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 oness de Brazos. Perhaps you happened 
 to notice her, she wore Scotch plaid 
 stock. . ." 
 
 "Silence!" cried Achille, with such 
 vehemence that those who sat nearest 
 looked about. 
 
 " Of course," continued Pierre Rabot, 
 " I should not have spoken of such 
 things to a stranger ... I hope 
 you do me justice to believe it ! At all 
 events the young lady is charming, and 
 what is more she has expressed a will 
 ingness to have you presented, and 
 with people of her position you know 
 that means a great deal. Come, will 
 you join us?" 
 
 It seemed to Achille that he had 
 fallen asleep, and that in his sleep he 
 dreamed that the thief had become his 
 friend and benefactor. He tried to col 
 lect his senses, but a furious band had 
 struck up the March of Boulanger, and 
 his thoughts went capering to the tune, 
 5 1
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Revenant de la Revue! The world 
 was upside down ; the saddler looked 
 at him with scorn ; the pumpman with 
 contempt; and in the midst of the con 
 fusion, the brouhaha of the cafe, the 
 tumult of the Pig Market, there sat the 
 lady of his love the Countess the 
 goddess and she had expressed a will 
 ingness that he should be presented. 
 
 " Come," he gasped, "come," and he 
 started toward her, forgetful of all else, 
 but Pierre Rabot caught his arm and 
 held him back. 
 
 "It may be necessary," he said, "to 
 make some explanation of your present 
 costume. I should never have noticed 
 such a matter, but women are so much 
 more observant." 
 
 "Camel!" cried Achille, returning 
 suddenly to a consciousness of his con 
 dition, "do you imagine that I would 
 meet the Countess in the rags of a 
 vagrant! Wretch, it is you. . ." 
 52
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Be calm, my friend! It is I who 
 would present you. Ah, I have it! We 
 will say that you have been milking." 
 
 "Milking!" 
 
 " Yes, I will tell her privately that 
 you are eccentric just a little cracked 
 on socialism and the rights of man. It 
 will be capital! Come on! " 
 
 "I will not go with you! I shall de 
 nounce you before the whole town. I 
 shall tell them the truth." 
 
 "The truth!" cried Pierre. "Pray, 
 do not speak so loud. When did you 
 divine my secret?" 
 
 " I have divined nothing except that 
 you have stolen my clothes." 
 
 "Ah, that again! really you grow 
 tiresome. But the time has come when 
 I should confide in you. You may not 
 believe me. Listen! I am the author 
 of All Evil!" 
 
 "The Devil?" gasped Achille, start 
 ing back in amazement. 
 53
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " No, no, you misunderstand me. 
 The author of a book called "All Evil," 
 which has, I may say, created some 
 small sensation of late. I have been 
 challenged by every officer in the garri 
 son of Paris above a sub-lieutenant." 
 
 "Sir. . .!" 
 
 "Yes, there was not an exception. 
 Believe me, I have but to raise my 
 hand to deluge France in blood." 
 
 "Really. . .!" began Achilla, but 
 Pierre Rabot continued rapidly: 
 
 " When you have read my book I 
 shall take the liberty of sending you a 
 copy, Edition de Luxe, very rare you 
 will understand me, and I hope you will 
 love me, and now, away with care! The 
 Countess waits. Remember you have 
 been milking." 
 
 As Achille suffered himself to be 
 
 drawn beneath the balcony it was with 
 
 a firm determination that he woyld 
 
 become a party to none of the decep- 
 
 54
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 tions in which his guide was such an 
 adept. He was convinced that the 
 ladies could know little of the charac 
 ter of Pierre Rabot, and every instinct 
 of chivalry urged him to put them on 
 their guard; to stand, if need be, be 
 tween them and the consequences of a 
 misplaced confidence. 
 
 There was something fine, too, in the 
 idea of a knightly heart beneath a 
 plowman's blouse. Perhaps some day 
 he would meet the Countess when he 
 was better dressed and hear from her 
 the story of the noble artisan. . . It 
 is a violet moment when the rays of 
 blue duty and red inclination meet and 
 mingle. 
 
 When Achille stood at last before 
 the Countess, the climax was not as he 
 had pictured it. He found himself 
 wedged into a narrow space between 
 a stout table borrowed from the 
 blanchisseuse and the rougher por- 
 55
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 tions of the facade of the Golden Cat. 
 On one side the ladder used to lower 
 baggage from the omnibus barred the 
 way of further progress, and on the 
 other Pierre Rabot pressed close 
 against his elbow. From across the 
 board the Baroness de Brazos regarded 
 him impassively through her lorgnette, 
 and the lady who had expressed a will 
 ingness to know him seemed quite un 
 conscious of his presence. He recalled 
 uncomfortably that it was outwardly 
 quite another man who had been the 
 object of her favor, and again regretted 
 that he had not confided in the gen 
 darmes. Meanwhile Pierre Rabot 
 talked. Pierre Rabot was always talk 
 ing. 
 
 " Permit me," he was saying, " permit 
 me to present my old friend Felix Du- 
 Lorme the great DuLorme of whom 
 you have doubtless read. He is called 
 the New Jean Baptiste the Herald of
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Universal Love. Forsaking name, rank 
 and a career of exceptional promise, he 
 has devoted the best years of his life, 
 and a considerable portion of his im 
 mense fortune, to the service of the 
 poor and humble. Born in a palace he 
 has chosen to make the cot of the 
 peasant his shelter for ten long 
 years but, ladies, to-night his vow 
 expires, and he intends to return to the 
 state in which he was born, and for 
 which he is so eminently fitted. To 
 night he resumes his title of Duke 
 de . . . but no, I must not speak 
 the name until the midnight bell has 
 tolled! . . . Felix, my boy, lend me 
 five hundred francs to pay the waiter." 
 
 " Five hundred francs ! " gasped 
 Achille, again allowing surprise to take 
 the place of just resentment. 
 
 "Did I say five hundred! I meant 
 five thousand, or five, which was it? 
 Do be quick! " 
 
 57
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Achilla would not have acted as he 
 did had not the fat, familiar features of 
 the garden of the Golden Cat mutely 
 announced a time of reckoning; but he 
 knew the power of penetration beneath 
 that calm exterior, and, reluctant to 
 arouse his curiosity, he drew forth his 
 well-filled pocket book and produced a 
 roll of notes. 
 
 " I have not that much silver," he 
 said, "but here is one hundred, 
 perhaps . . . 
 
 Deftly plucking the bill from his 
 fingers, and with a regretful glance at 
 the others more firmly held, Pierre 
 Rabot laughed. 
 
 " I will get the change," he said. " I 
 see my old friend Baron Blumm 
 there yonder; trust a banker to have 
 money about him. Excuse me for 
 one moment ... I will re 
 turn." 
 
 Pierre Rabot did not return at the 
 58
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 end of one moment, nor at the end of 
 many; in point of fact he did not return 
 at all. 
 
 59
 
 IV 
 
 Achilla was left alone with the ladies. 
 Even the fat waiter, seeing in the silver- 
 mounted pocket book security for the 
 modest addition, hurried away to con 
 ciliate more pressing patrons. The 
 Baroness continued to regard him 
 through her lorgnette; the Countess to 
 regard everything within range of 
 vision except him. 
 
 " Mesdames," he said, when it became 
 evident that the search for the Baron 
 Blumm was likely to be prolonged, 
 " Mesdames, if I have seemed to intrude 
 myself upon you, it is only that I may 
 have an opportunity to warn you that 
 the individual who has this moment 
 left us, is, to speak mildly, a most unre- 
 61
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 liable person. But, perhaps, you are 
 already aware of this 
 
 " Indeed, we are not," said the 
 Baroness, lowering her glasses and 
 suddenly becoming interested. " We 
 know nothing of him except that he 
 has a chateau not far from here, and 
 that he has kindly offered his carriage 
 to take us back to St. Ives, Mademoi 
 selle having met with an accident that 
 disabled her bicycle." 
 
 At the word "Mademoiselle" the 
 heart of the young man gave an exul 
 tant bound. 
 
 "I have heard of the accident to 
 the Countess," he said, sympathetically. 
 " I trust that she has escaped unin 
 jured." 
 
 " I am not a Countess," exclaimed the 
 victim, impatiently, speaking for the 
 first time but without turning her head. 
 " Pray, do you see this Monsieur Vifour 
 returning?" 
 
 62
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Monsieur Vifour? " stammered 
 Achille. 
 
 " Surely you know the name of your 
 old friend!" 
 
 " Achille Vifour? " inquired the young 
 man, meekly. 
 
 " No," explained the Baroness, who, 
 now that the ice was broken, had be 
 come most affable. " This one is 
 Georges Vifour a bourgeois family, not 
 distinguished, but highly respectable. 
 He has a brother Achille, who is, I fear, 
 a trifle weak-minded nothing serious, 
 you understand this afternoon we saw 
 him at the gate of the chateau behaving 
 in the most singular manner. They are 
 twins and dress alike." 
 
 "Madame!" cried the young man, 
 "Achille Vifour may be an imbecile, 
 but he has no twin brother; and if he 
 had it would not be this Pierre Rabot. 
 You have been deceived by a scoundrel 
 who has neither chateau nor carriage, 
 63
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and who is at this moment escaping 
 with my hundred francs, and 
 
 "Merciful heaven!" exclaimed the 
 lady. " He has my cycle satchel that he 
 insisted on carrying! It contains my 
 diamond ring, and eleven francs fifty! 
 Let us follow him! " 
 
 " I will notify the authorities at once." 
 
 " But the police would ask our names, 
 would they not?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Then we can do nothing. No, it 
 would be a scandal. The ring was no 
 great thing, pretty, but from the 
 Palais Royal, you understand. Let it 
 go. See, we are attracting attention, 
 pray sit down." 
 
 For several minutes the Baroness 
 poured forth an eloquent denunciation 
 of Rabot, and Achille, rejoicing in the 
 misfortune that had brought him into 
 such confidential relations with at least 
 one of the ladies, listened with sympa- 
 6 4
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 thetic interest till the other inter 
 rupted 
 
 " Madame," she said, " do you realize 
 our position? If this is true, and no 
 carriage has been ordered for us, we 
 are here five kilos from St. Ives, and 
 without means of returning." 
 
 " My bicycle is uninjured," replied the 
 Baroness, adding sweetly, "but, of 
 course, nothing would induce me to go 
 without you." 
 
 " I should hope not!" cried the other 
 nervously. " Really we must lose no 
 time in finding some conveyance." 
 
 " Rather a difficult matter I am 
 afraid to-day," remarked the Baroness, 
 blandly. 
 
 " Mesdames," exclaimed Achille, " I 
 shall be honored if you will regard me 
 as your servant." 
 
 " It would be but another proof of 
 your benevolence, Monsieur Du 
 Lorme," replied the elder lady, gra- 
 65
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 ciously, " if you could even borrow a 
 donkey." 
 
 " I will not ride on a donkey," said 
 the Countess with decision. 
 
 " I assure you, Mademoiselle ..." 
 began Achille, but before he could 
 finish the sentence there arose in the 
 fair a commotion, which grew in the 
 twinkling of an eye to an uproar, and 
 from an uproar to a panic. Smoke 
 curled among the chestnut trees in the 
 direction of the booths, and on all sides 
 frantic voices cried that the menagerie 
 had taken fire, and that the animals 
 would soon be loose. The air was filled 
 with the terrified screams of women, 
 the wild shouts of men, and the seem 
 ingly wilder orders of the police striving 
 to reassure the crowd. 
 
 " Idiots," cried the captain of the 
 guard, " it is not the beasts that burn, 
 it is the waxworks; can you not 
 smell?" 
 
 66
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 But the frightened people did not 
 stop to reason. On they came in a 
 tidal wave toward the Cafe of the 
 Golden Cat, and, before the charge, 
 tables and benches went down with a 
 resounding crash. Here, owing to the 
 fat waiter's presence of mind in imita 
 ting a lion, there was a moment's pause 
 of which Achille was quick to take ad 
 vantage. Seizing the ladder, he planted 
 one end firmly on the top of the stout 
 table, while the other rested against the 
 railing of the balcony above. Once on 
 the table, the distance was not greater 
 than from the ground to the omnibus 
 roof, and the angle of inclination not 
 alarmingly steep. 
 
 " Mount, ladies! " he cried. " Do not 
 be afraid ; it is perfectly safe. Step 
 upon the chair, now upon the table 
 Ah, bravely done! " 
 
 When the Countess had climbed 
 nimbly, the Baroness more heavily to 
 6?
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 the balcony, Achille followed and drew 
 the ladder after him, much to the dis 
 gust of others who had expected to 
 share in their retreat. 
 
 "That was a very clever idea! "ex 
 claimed the Countess with frank 
 appreciation, when she had recovered 
 her breath. 
 
 " It is fortunate that we were dressed 
 for wheeling," remarked the Baroness, 
 readjusting her hat. 
 
 The confusion subsided almost as 
 rapidly as it had commenced. Even 
 before the notes of a trumpet announced 
 the arrival of the pompiers the fire had 
 been extinguished, and with the return 
 of order the dreaded animals could be 
 heard howling reassuringly behind their 
 own particular canvas. 
 
 Below the landlady and the fat 
 
 waiter wept together over damages that 
 
 it would take more than one Pig Market 
 
 to make good, and commending his 
 
 68
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 companions to their tearful care Achille 
 swung himself to the ground. 
 
 After searching through all the town 
 of Greslin, but to find that the Baroness 
 had been right, he returned in despera 
 tion to a shed where he had observed 
 an old-time diligence, covered with 
 dust, and long abandoned to the 
 crickets and the mice. The coach, 
 which had once been of a brilliant 
 yellow, was almost paintless, and the 
 wooden sides had offered tempting 
 tablets for the picture writing of the 
 stable yard; the one small window in 
 the door was without glass, and the 
 seats within were bare of cushions; it 
 was entered from the end like an omni 
 bus, and, amid marine surroundings, 
 might have passed for an inferior order 
 of bathing machine; but the wheels 
 were strong enough for a cannon, and 
 the springs would have sustained a load 
 of hay. 
 
 69
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Next, as the result of princely and 
 visible offers of reward, a large white 
 horse was disentombed from the cellar 
 of the blacksmith, where he chanced to 
 be undergoing treatment for some tri 
 fling defect of sight, then the baker's 
 wife remembered an old harness in the 
 garret; and when from numerous appli 
 cants a lad had been selected who was 
 pronounced by experts to be sufficiently 
 sober to undertake the driving, Achille 
 experienced the satisfaction of one who 
 has conquered circumstances. Impa 
 tient as he had been to close his bar 
 gain, and little as he had stopped to 
 haggle over terms, before he was at 
 last free to return the sun had set and 
 the evening was drawing on. Although 
 the result of his mission had not been 
 all that he had hoped, he was sure that 
 the ladies would believe that he had 
 done his best, and his only anxiety was 
 lest his long absence should have caused 
 70
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 them uneasiness. Once more beneath 
 the chestnut trees, he saw that order 
 again prevailed about the cafe, and 
 that before the door guests were assem 
 bled as though nothing had occurred. 
 The ladies were still as he had left them 
 on the balcony, but the ladder rested 
 again upon the table, and mounted on 
 it stood the fat waiter apparently serv 
 ing an omelet across the railing. 
 
 " How is this?" he demanded of the 
 landlady. " Why have you not opened 
 the window?" 
 
 "Alas!" replied the good woman, 
 "the room within is locked, and during 
 the excitement, I threw my keys into 
 the cistern to save trouble." 
 
 " Come up, Monsieur DuLorme," 
 called the Baroness from above, "we 
 have a cover for you and a chair." 
 
 It was, to the young man at least, 
 a charming meal that the three shared, 
 sitting in a row upon the narrow bal- 
 71
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 cony, and when Achille had slacked his 
 thirst from a bottle of good red wine, 
 he gave such an account of the dili 
 gence that the others laughed heartily. 
 Under the circumstances formality 
 would have been a farce and dignity an 
 affectation. 
 
 Achille watched for an opportunity 
 to explain that he was neither the ex 
 cellent DuLorme nor a Herald of Uni 
 versal Love, but the talk flowed in such 
 impersonal channels that it would have 
 been a want of tact to direct it toward 
 himself. Even the name was not again 
 mentioned. 
 
 " Monsieur," said the Baroness as 
 they sipped their coffee, " I must tell 
 you that we are in retreat at the Con 
 vent of St. Ives. We have, as you 
 know, been robbed, so if you will 
 kindly pay for the dinner we will send 
 you our share of the amount by the 
 driver." 
 
 72
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Achilla made a gesture of protest, 
 but before he could speak the young 
 lady, who had suddenly grown very red, 
 cried out in consternation: 
 
 " I never thought about paying or 
 I should not have eaten a morsel! 
 Madame, Monsieur, I have no money! 
 I never have any money. Could you 
 not, Monsieur, make out a bill; I will 
 tell you where to send it and call it 
 shoes no, not that I ate four pounds 
 of shoes last month! call it gloves, 
 two pairs of gloves, you can put on 
 buttons you know, till they equal the 
 amount!" 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested the Baroness, 
 " perhaps as the expense was incurred 
 through an accident to your bicycle, 
 it would not be unjust if the bill was 
 made out for four pairs of gloves!" 
 
 "Of course, of course!" assented 
 the Countess. 
 
 Achille bowed gravely. 
 73
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "The arrangement would be per 
 fectly satisfactory to me," he said, but 
 when they had descended upon the ar 
 rival of the diligence, he took occasion 
 to whisper to the Baroness: 
 
 " Shall I divide the expense of the 
 conveyance equally, or will Madame 
 ride back on her own wheel? The 
 charge will be twenty francs for each." 
 
 She did not answer him directly, but 
 said aloud as the fat waiter brought the 
 bicycle: 
 
 "I think I will ride a little way," and 
 mounted. 
 
 "Am I to go alone in this horri 
 ble packing case?" exclaimed the 
 Countess, almost in tears. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said Achille, "I 
 could not permit that. The roads are 
 full of intoxicated peasants, and I have 
 little confidence in the discretion of the 
 driver. As it happens, I have business 
 in St. Ives, and with your permission, I 
 74
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 will sit upon the box and see you safely 
 to your destination." 
 
 "Would you mind coming inside?" 
 asked the Countess timidly, "it's awfully 
 dark in there, and I'm not used to 
 being alone on such a journey." 
 
 " As you please," he assented with 
 great respect, " I think on the whole 
 that would be the safest plan." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm very much obliged 
 to you," said the Countess. 
 
 The Baroness returned and came up 
 behind, before they left the town, and 
 for a while the three exchanged sallies 
 through the broken window, but when 
 they reached the brow of the long hill 
 she grew impatient at the slowness 
 of the pace, and elevating her neat 
 gaiters, called out that she would be 
 waiting at the bridge, and shot past 
 with what the French term " exagger 
 ated quickness." 
 
 Although it was now nine o'clock, one 
 75
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 might still have read clear type in the 
 June twilight, and even in the dim inte 
 rior of the coach there was light enough 
 to reveal the efforts that Achille had 
 made for the comfort of his charge. A 
 strip of carpet was upon the floor, and 
 on each of the hard seats a feather pil 
 low incased in red cotton. He did not 
 explain that these articles, once of the 
 household of the baker's wife, were his 
 by right of purchase, nor did she 
 attribute the presence of an ample 
 shawl to aught but the forethought of 
 the driver. 
 
 " Was it not nice of him! " exclaimed 
 the Countess. " Please do not forget to 
 give him a good pour boire and put it in 
 the bill." 
 
 " I shall not forget, Mademoiselle." 
 
 She wrapped the shawl about her 
 
 from head to foot, for it had grown 
 
 chilly, and snuggled comfortably in one 
 
 corner, while the young man selecting 
 
 76
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 for himself another as far remote as 
 the limits of the coach allowed, waited 
 with respectful patience to discover 
 what her conception of the situation 
 might be. He was far too well bred 
 from a French point of view to begin 
 a conversation that might not be ac 
 ceptable, and the lady was presumably 
 too well bred from a French point of 
 view to take the initiative, so there 
 was silence in the diligence, broken 
 only by the low monotonous creaking 
 of the leathern springs and the meas 
 ured beat of hoofs upon the smooth 
 hard road. 
 
 Presently the Countess sighed softly, 
 which sign Achille, who felt keenly the 
 delicacy of her position, interpreted as 
 the expression of an inclination towards 
 slumber, and at once composed himself 
 to counterfeit the same desire. 
 
 The gait of the white horse, though 
 slow, was steady; the heavy vehicle 
 77
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 swayed gently as a boat upon a running 
 river; through the broken window the 
 evening air blew cool and heavy with 
 the fragrance of the fields; all about 
 was peace and twilight and the hush of 
 nature sinking into sleep. Near him, 
 so near him in the darkness that his 
 out-stretched hand could have rested 
 upon her, was she who in the waning of 
 a day had so filled his being that it 
 seemed that all the years before were 
 but as idlings in the nursery, and life 
 was only measured by one sun between 
 the zenith and the west. 
 
 In the twilight one may hear strange 
 music, and with the first stars come 
 many things that do not walk by day. 
 
 In the twilight when youth and love 
 go hand in hand, they come so near the 
 dwelling place of their sweet sister who 
 is the chatelaine of the House of 
 Dreams that they can hear her voice, 
 " The day is done, abide with me." 
 78
 
 V 
 
 "Ciell . . . Diable! . . . Mor- 
 bleu! . . . Misericorde! . . ." 
 These words and others expressive of 
 distress greeted the sleepers when they 
 awoke. But it was not the words 
 that awoke them. The diligence had 
 suddenly turned upon one end, and 
 through the small window, now a sky 
 light, the stars were twinkling. It was 
 as dark as an oven and nearly as hot, 
 and somewhere in the gloom, Achille, 
 the lady and the pillows were piled in 
 a conglomerate heap. 
 
 " Misericorde !" repeated the voice 
 without, " I suffer, I die! That villain 
 of a horse has kicked out my brains." 
 
 "What has happened?" shouted 
 Achille, when he had freed his mouth 
 from a corner of the carpet. 
 79
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " My legs are broken, my ribs are 
 crushed and I am dying!" replied a lusty 
 voice now readily recognizable as that 
 of the driver. 
 
 " Come here at once and help us out," 
 called back Achille unfeelingly. Natu 
 rally his first thought had been for the 
 safety of the Countess, but the sound of 
 smothered laughter in the darkness had 
 at once reassured him and his anxious 
 inquiries were prompted rather by civil 
 ity than alarm. 
 
 " I am not hurt at all," she answered, 
 " but I am standing on my head, and 
 there is something heavy on my shoul 
 der, I think it is your foot." 
 
 When after much cautious wriggling, 
 Achille was at last free to stand up and 
 thrust his head from the door, a glance 
 explained the situation. The forward 
 running gear had in some way become 
 detached from its fastening, allowing 
 the body of the coach to drop to the 
 80
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 road at one end, while the other still 
 firm upon the high back wheels, pointed 
 skyward at so great an angle that the 
 floor was practically perpendicular. 
 Nearby the white horse dragging the 
 missing wheels grazed peacefully, and 
 nearer still the driver lay upon his back 
 and howled. 
 
 "What has happened to the horse?" 
 Achille demanded. 
 
 " Nothing!" 
 
 " Well, what is the matter with you?" 
 
 " My lungs are punctured!" 
 
 "Bah! do you think yourself a bicy 
 cle? What has happened to the car 
 riage ? " 
 
 " I care not what has happened to 
 that infam}', it is sufficient that it has 
 caused my death." 
 
 As he spoke the driver rolled over 
 and over until he was thoroughly pow 
 dered with white dust. Then he rose 
 upon all fours; then, with many groans, 
 81
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 he knelt; and finally, after cautiously 
 testing every bone before depending on 
 its strength, stood upon his feet. 
 
 "You are not dead," said the prisoner 
 encouragingly. " Can you not see that 
 you are not even seriously hurt? Come 
 now, and help me." 
 
 " There are injuries," returned the 
 young man mournfully, "that do not 
 show upon the surface. Does Monsieur 
 desire to come out?" 
 
 Meanwhile the lady, by the aid of an 
 ingeniously constructed pedestal of pil 
 lows, had succeeded in bringing her 
 head above the level of the opening 
 and now stood close to Achille com 
 posedly viewing the scene. 
 
 "Ask him where we are," she sug 
 gested, and Achille did so. 
 
 "How should I know?" replied the 
 driver scornfully. " I have never before 
 been in this miserable country." 
 
 "Where is the other lady?" 
 82
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " She is where her machine has car 
 ried her. My horse is not an express 
 train to overtake her." 
 
 " But was she not at the bridge ?" 
 
 " I have seen no bridge." 
 
 " Surely we have come as far as the 
 River Loup!" 
 
 " The River Loup ? That is upon the 
 road to St. Ives. We left that long 
 before the bridge." 
 
 "Ciel!' Where does this road lead 
 to?" 
 
 " I had hoped," replied the youth 
 cheerfully, " that it would lead to 
 Tives but it appears that it leads no 
 where." 
 
 "Tives!" shouted Achille and the lady 
 in one breath, " Tives! " 
 
 "Why not?" asked the driver shrug 
 ging his shoulders. 
 
 "Why, in the name of goodness, 
 should we want to go to Tives?" de 
 manded Achille. 
 
 83
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "That is the affair of Monsieur," re 
 plied the lad respectfully. 
 
 " But did I not explain to you fully 
 
 
 " Monsieur explained nothing to me. 
 It was to my cousin that Monsieur ex 
 plained, but at the last moment he re 
 ceived news of the illness of his god 
 parent, and was so much overcome that 
 
 I " 
 
 " Imbecile, where is this Tives? " 
 " I do not know, Monsieur." 
 Further discussion was prevented by 
 the appearance of two peasants, who 
 approached from the darkness, armed 
 one with a scythe of formidable dimen 
 sions and the other with a wooden 
 pitchfork, and halting at a safe distance 
 from the upturned carriage inquired 
 the cause of the disturbance. 
 
 Achille, who knew the country peo 
 ple, wasted no words in explanation, 
 but promptly offered each a franc if 
 8 4
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 they would lift the coach and hold it 
 horizontal for a single minute. 
 
 "And now, my man," said Achille, ad 
 dressing the elder of the peasants, as 
 soon as the travelers felt the ground 
 beneath their feet, "will you kindly tell 
 me where we are ? " 
 
 As he answered, the man spread his 
 hands, palms upward, and looked about 
 him. 
 
 " This is not a city to have a name," 
 he said. 
 
 "Are there no houses near ?" 
 
 " Yes, there are the huts of the sabot 
 makers, and there is the house of my 
 son." 
 
 " Surely you must know where you 
 live." 
 
 "Oh yes, Monsieur, I know well where 
 I live. I live at the house of my 
 son." 
 
 "Are there no women?" asked the 
 Countess, adding in a low voice to her 
 85
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 companion, "Let us find a woman, they 
 are much less stupid than the men." 
 
 " Certainly there are women," replied 
 the peasant; "there is the wife of my 
 son, and there is my wife, and there is 
 the grandmother of my son's wife, and 
 there is the niece of my wife, and there 
 is " 
 
 " Please show us where they are," in 
 terrupted the lady. 
 
 The peasants turned obediently, but 
 as they moved away the driver pro 
 tested. 
 
 "Will no one help me?" he pleaded 
 piteously, and the younger peasant 
 being promised another franc remained 
 behind. 
 
 The country on every side seemed, 
 even in the charitable starlight, both 
 barren and desolate. Gorse and furze 
 grew in disorderly tangles upon the 
 crumbling walls of turf along the road, 
 and the fields beyond were stony and 
 86
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 uncultivated. The place was unfamiliar 
 to Achille, but he supposed it to be a 
 part of the region called Purgatory, 
 which lies at the outskirt of the State 
 Forest. Here every thirty years the 
 hills are shorn of timber, and then 
 the trees are coaxed to grow again 
 that posterity may keep the pot a-boil 
 ing. 
 
 The peasant trudged ahead in silence, 
 the travelers following side by side. 
 The Countess wore the shawl about 
 her shoulders, and when Achille remind 
 ed her that she had left her hat in the 
 coach, and offered to return for it, she 
 laughed and said it did not matter, and 
 readjusted her drapery in the form of a 
 hood. He could recall none of his com 
 rades who would have met the catas 
 trophe with less agitation, and in the 
 face of her composure the young man 
 felt that any effort at consolation would 
 be misdirected. Her manner of meet- 
 87
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 ing the inevitable but added to his ad 
 miration and esteem, though this would 
 have been equally true of any other 
 manner that she might have elected to 
 adopt. 
 
 Presently the silhouette of a wood 
 rose against the sky, and when shortly 
 afterwards they entered the shadow, 
 the smell of timber newly cut announced 
 the nearness of the sabot makers' camp 
 of which the guide had spoken. A few 
 steps more brought them to the centre 
 of a circle of small huts of boughs and 
 leaves, broken on one side by the larger 
 outline of a shelter of the same primi 
 tive construction,which heaped up chips 
 and rude machinery marked as a work 
 shop, and on the other by a long, low 
 cottage surmounted by a sagging roof 
 of thatch. A light shone from the four- 
 paned window of the cottage, and when 
 the sound of feet upon the dry leaves 
 and twigs announced their coming, the 
 88
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 door opened and a belt of light shot out 
 across the rough uneven ground. 
 
 As the door opened, the man stood 
 still and called 
 
 " Babette, come here!" 
 
 Then as if in apology for his seeming 
 lack of hospitality, he added 
 
 " Perhaps Madame would not desire 
 to enter we are occupied in skinning a 
 cow." 
 
 " I should think," commented the 
 Countess, " that you would have pre 
 ferred to do that in the forest." 
 
 " It would have been better for a 
 thousand reasons," assented the man, 
 " but she was too large to pass through 
 the door." 
 
 " How did she ever get in ?" inquired 
 Achilla. 
 
 " As a calf," replied the peasant sim- 
 
 ply- 
 
 Babette, when she came forth wiping 
 her hands upon a burlap apron, expressed 
 89
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 interest, if not sympathy, in the mis 
 fortunes of the travelers, and glancing 
 at the Countess she exclaimed 
 
 "Saints in Heaven! it must have 
 been terrible, Madame has lost her pet 
 ticoat! and doubtless, too, she had a 
 hat." 
 
 Babette knew the names of several 
 hamlets at varying distances from the 
 camp of the sabot makers, none of which 
 were at all familiar to Achille. When 
 asked if she had heard of Greslin she 
 admitted that she had, and supposed it 
 to be across the hills, very far away 
 perhaps twenty kilos. Tives was some 
 where to the south on quite another 
 road, that is if it were anywhere, which 
 she greatly doubted. Oh la, la! it was 
 a shame that such things should happen. 
 Perhaps when the driver came he would 
 have some practical suggestions to 
 make. Monsieur and Madame must 
 excuse her appearance! it was not an 
 90
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 easy thing to skin a cow, and the opera 
 tion takes much longer than one would 
 suppose. 
 
 The mention of time prompted 
 Achille to look at his watch, and when he 
 held it to the light of the open door he 
 saw that it was half-past twelve o'clock. 
 Even making the most unflattering al 
 lowance for the speed of the white 
 horse, they must have traveled twenty 
 kilos. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, turning to 
 the Countess, " I must tell you that we 
 have strayed much farther than I sup 
 posed, and that it is now past midnight. 
 My unfortunate nap has not only put 
 you to this inconvenience, but will, I 
 fear, be the cause of the greatest an 
 xiety to your friends." 
 
 " I beg that Monsieur will give him 
 self no uneasiness on that account," re 
 plied the lady graciously," I have reason 
 to believe that the good Sisters would 
 9 1
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 not be sorry to dispense with my society 
 altogether." 
 
 " But your friend, the Baroness ?" 
 
 "I do not so much as know her name." 
 
 11 Mother," called a voice within the 
 cottage, " shall we cut off the tail ?" 
 
 " That will be for to-morrow," replied 
 Babette. "Wash thy hands, we will go 
 to bed as soon as it shall please these 
 good folks to leave us." 
 
 A voice sounded through the woods 
 and a moment later the young peasant 
 who had borne the pitchfork appeared 
 singing lustily. When he drew near he 
 stopped singing and laughed heartily. 
 
 " It was a good joke on that driver!" 
 he chuckled. "Would you believe me, 
 nothing was broken! A hook had 
 worked loose, and we had only to put 
 the two parts together, and there was 
 his machine as strong as new." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Achille, "where 
 is he now ? " 
 
 92
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " He has gone home." 
 
 " Gone where ?" 
 
 " Home, I suppose. He turned and 
 went in the direction from which he 
 came at a gallop. But doubtless," he 
 added hopefully, seeing that his intelli 
 gence was unwelcome, "doubtless he 
 will return." 
 
 " If we can be of no further service to 
 Monsieur and Madame/' said Babette, 
 with cold politeness, "we would ask per 
 mission to retire. The poor must sleep 
 if they are to do their work. A plaisir, 
 Monsieur et dame" 
 
 " Stop! " cried Achille, "we must have 
 a conveyance of some sort. I have 
 plenty of money." 
 
 " Monsieur is fortunate, but if he 
 were to pay me a million francs I could 
 not create a horse. I am sorry, but we 
 are poor and have nothing to offer." 
 
 " But, if you refuse to help us, what 
 are we to do ? " 
 
 93
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " There is always the Inn of the Silver 
 Moon," laughed Babette, adding with 
 withering sarcasm, " if / were rich I 
 would buy a ticket and take a seat in the 
 railway train like a general." 
 
 "The railway! Where is it? Are 
 there trains to-night ?" 
 
 " The station is not far; you cannot 
 miss it, for there is a gate across the 
 road. The trains pass when God wills, 
 I do not trouble myself with such mat 
 ters." 
 
 " Good night, and thank you for lit 
 tle!" cried Achille, losing his patience. 
 "Come Mademoiselle, there is nothing 
 to be gained from these idiots." 
 
 " Good night to you for a pair of 
 vagabonds, who will end in the galleys!" 
 replied Babette, and as they left the 
 grove she called after them many things 
 that he hoped the Countess did not un 
 derstand. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," said Achille humbly, 
 94
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 when they were once more upon the 
 road, " I can never hope to be forgiven 
 for my carelessness in going to sleep, 
 but I trust you understand that when I 
 have succeeded in restoring you to your 
 friends, my one thought will be to efface 
 myself so completely from your life that 
 you will be able to account for your ab 
 sence in any way that may seem credi 
 ble. Meanwhile 1 am your slave." 
 
 " Of course," replied the Countess 
 lightly, " but how fortunate we were to 
 learn about the railway. It was a good 
 idea of mine to see the woman, they 
 are always so much more clever than 
 men." 
 
 If it occurred to Achille that it was 
 through making the acquaintance of 
 Babette they had lost the diligence, 
 he put the thought from him as un 
 worthy. Neither did he feel himself in 
 a position to debate the relative clever 
 ness of the sexes. He could have 
 95
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 wished, too, that the idea of his own 
 annihilation had not been accepted 
 quite so calmly. Nevertheless, when 
 they reached the highway he said, 
 cheerfully: 
 
 "At least we know the direction not 
 to take," and they turned toward the 
 unknown. 
 
 The way led through a part of the. 
 wood, where the axe had not fallen 
 since the days when the king wore 
 green velvet to deceive the deer. The 
 trees stood far apart, wonderful oaks 
 and beeches that had come to honora 
 ble age untrammeled by the rabble of 
 the thicket, and beneath, the fern and 
 bracken grew waist deep. In the open 
 spaces were stretches of soft turf, 
 smooth as bowling courts, and beds of 
 tufted heather just purpling into blos 
 som, through which the white road 
 shone dimly like a path of phosphorus 
 The air was sweet with faint aromatic 
 96
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 odors; the wood still as a cathedral, 
 and as filled with silent prayer. Once 
 they passed close to a little tarn of 
 water teeming with stars. Once they 
 went beneath an arch of whispering 
 pines. 
 
 It was only a corner of the forest, 
 and soon they saw again the desolate 
 upland, and beyond, a wide expanse of 
 dark mysterious country to which the 
 road descended rapidly. Here they 
 stood for a moment looking back. 
 
 " Is it not beautiful! " she said. " See 
 the moon is coming up behind the 
 trees. Could we not sit down and wait 
 till morning? I am very tired." 
 
 " I have read," said the young man 
 softly, " that once, while hunting, the 
 Duchess Anne rode so far from her 
 company that she lost her way, and, 
 attended only by one faithful lackey, 
 slept ail night upon a bed of fern here 
 in the forest." 
 
 97
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Poor thing," sighed the Countess 
 " I do not suppose she had even a 
 shawl!" 
 
 98
 
 VI 
 
 The Countess rested well, as doubt 
 less did the Duchess Anne before her, 
 and perhaps it was above the same mir 
 ror that each bent in the early dawn to 
 smooth her hair, and bathe her face in 
 the cool water. 
 
 Achille had kept a solitary watch, 
 but he was very happy. When it was 
 light enough, while still the lady slept, 
 he had carved an arrowhead upon 
 the bark of a beech tree, saying to him 
 self: 
 
 " Uncas, my friend, after all you were 
 not the last." He even thought pleas 
 antly of Chin-gach-gook. 
 
 There were drops of water on her 
 hair, and mimic tears in her eyes as she 
 came back to him from the lake. She 
 99
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 had gathered sprigs of early heather 
 and wore them at her throat, and her 
 shawl fell about her like Rosalind's 
 doublet. 
 
 " Come," he said laughing, " we must 
 take the road, for we cannot expect the 
 fairies to provide our breakfast." 
 
 "Anything may happen," she replied, 
 as they left the wood, " anything, even 
 that." ' 
 
 A few minutes later she said again: 
 
 "Was I not right?" and even as she 
 spoke there came upon the air the un 
 mistakable smell of newly made coffee. 
 
 They had been moving rapidly down 
 the hill, and now a turn in the road 
 brought them suddenly upon a large 
 green van drawn close against the 
 hedge Across the van was painted in 
 white letters, " Pol Paret, General Mer 
 chandise," and beneath the inscription 
 sat a moon-faced person upon a box 
 brewing coffee in a copper pot above a 
 
 100
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 charcoal brasier. Beside him on the 
 ground lay an earthen dish containing 
 butter and a loaf of tempting bread. 
 
 "Good morning, mates!" called Pol 
 Paret without moving, "you are up 
 early." 
 
 " No earlier for us than for others," 
 replied Achille. 
 
 " You'd call it late if you had been up 
 all night as I have! Where are you 
 from?" 
 
 "From the Pig Market." 
 
 " But you cannot have come from 
 Greslin!" 
 
 " So you say." 
 
 "On foot!" 
 
 "So you see." 
 
 The man whistled in surprise. 
 
 " Oh la, la, it's a shame to make 
 a boy like that walk such a distance! " 
 
 ' Yes, poor little fellow, he is tired," 
 assented Achille readily, "both tired 
 and hungry, I fear, and I must tell you 
 
 JOI
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 my nephew is deaf and dumb. That 
 coffee of yours smells good." 
 
 " It ought to, it cost two francs the 
 livre. What are you doing to the 
 boy?" 
 
 Achille with his hands close to the 
 opening in the shawl, that his afflicted 
 kinsman had wrapped about his head, 
 made gestures with his finger which 
 might seem to those unfamiliar with the 
 sign language to have a sinister signifi 
 cance. 
 
 " I am explaining to him," he an 
 swered, " that you will no doubt allow 
 us to purchase some coffee and a piece 
 of bread. I am telling him that we 
 have money to pay for it, and that his 
 mother would be displeased if he did 
 not eat; I am also telling him to go and 
 sit under that tree and that I will bring 
 him his breakfast. " 
 
 " It is really wonderful how you can 
 do it," commented Pol Paret, greatly 
 
 IC2
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 interested; "but why do you send him 
 away?" 
 
 "He is very timid, they are all like 
 that." 
 
 "Are they?" said Pol Paret. 
 
 The Countess drank her coffee with 
 her back turned to them, while Achille 
 encouraged his host to tell of the 
 cast shoe that had delayed him on 
 his way to the fair, and himself gave an 
 account of the fire in the waxwork 
 booth. 
 
 The merchant assured him that the 
 station was but a few steps further on, 
 and begged him to stay while he asked 
 many questions about the folk at the 
 fair whom he had often met. He said 
 that Mother Rehan could afford to lose 
 one or two figures, and that her Jeanne 
 d'Arc had been Esmeralda before the 
 cultus of the new saint had grown so 
 popular; for himself, he did not approve 
 of such dishonesty. He said the Lion 
 103
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Tamer was afraid of his wife, and that 
 he had known the Wild Man of Borneo 
 when he was a barber. As they parted, 
 he produced from his stock of general 
 merchandise a cravat of brilliant 
 scarlet. 
 
 " This is for your nephew," he said. 
 " There is a spot on one end, but you 
 can tie it so that it will not show. I am 
 sorry that he is so afraid of old Paret." 
 
 From a safe distance, the Countess 
 held up the bit of flaming silk and threw 
 a kiss back at the merchant, and he 
 waved a fat good bye. Then, they 
 broke into a run, for the train was 
 already nearing the station, and the 
 final " En voiture, s'il vous plait," was 
 being called as they climbed breathless 
 into the third-class carriage that the 
 Countess had insisted they should take. 
 
 There was but one other passenger 
 in the compartment, a young country 
 girl, who held a bird cage on her knees, 
 104
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and sat with her eyes protectingly 
 fastened upon a large black basket on 
 the seat before her. Her appearance 
 was reassuringly commonplace, but no 
 sooner was the door slammed than she 
 sprang to her feet with a cry of delight 
 and clasped the Countess in her arms. 
 
 Eager explanations followed, to 
 which the young man was careful not to 
 listen, and sinking into a corner he 
 feigned an interest in the passing land 
 scape, till suddenly the Countess turn 
 ing to him, said: 
 
 " Please put your head out of the 
 window, and keep it there till you feel 
 yourself pinched." 
 
 Achille did as he was told, keeping 
 his face toward the locomotive till his 
 eyes were filled with cinders, and then 
 in the opposite direction till the air 
 upon his neck made him sneeze. He 
 had suspended thought as far as the 
 actions of the Countess were concerned,
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and, as he watched the leisurely flow of 
 ties and bolts beside the omnibus train, 
 he speculated only upon what would 
 happen should he reach the next 
 station unpinched. But his anxiety 
 was unnecessary, for, just as the speed 
 began to slacken, he felt upon his arm 
 the clasp of two soft fingers, and meanly 
 allowed the signal to be repeated before 
 responding. 
 
 When he put his head out of the 
 window there had been with him a 
 peasant maiden, and another who had 
 passed for his nephew. Now there were 
 two peasant maidens and the boy had 
 gone. Rosalind had gone the Duchess 
 Anne had gone. 
 
 "Mademoiselle!!" began Achille, in 
 
 wild consternation, but the sentence 
 
 ended in a fit of uncontrolled laughter. 
 
 The Countess blushed and laughed 
 
 also, and the real peasant laughed 
 
 loudest of all. Then the train stopped 
 
 106
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and the owner of the black basket, hav 
 ing kissed the Countess again, de 
 scended and Achille handed her the 
 bird cage. 
 
 "Give me a gold piece, please," said 
 the Countess, and when he had hastened 
 to obey she threw it to the peasant girl, 
 saying: 
 
 "That is for the little Jules; " then to 
 Achille she added. " Put twenty francs 
 on the bill." 
 
 "Gloves?" asked Achille. 
 
 " No," she answered, thoughtfully, 
 " Dress material." 
 
 " Thank you," said Achille, respect 
 fully. 
 
 Other passengers entered a priest, a 
 soldier, a woman with a hen, and a man 
 with a basket of eels and the two sat 
 close together and spoke in confidential 
 undertones. 
 
 "Where are we going now?" asked 
 the Countess, smoothing her apron. 
 107
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " I haven't an idea," replied Achille, 
 as he produced the tickets. " I took 
 passage to the end of the line, which is 
 a branch. The place is about two 
 hours from where we started, but my 
 plan is to get out at the first town of 
 importance, where we will be sure to 
 find a carriage, for we must still be 
 within driving distance of ... 
 Achille paused, embarrassed, and 
 added, " Pardon me, but I have not 
 asked where you want to go." 
 
 " I think," replied the Countess, 
 thoughtfully, " that for many reasons it 
 would be better for me to go to 
 Paris." 
 
 " Quite so," assented Achille, readily, 
 but his composure cost him an effort. 
 
 " But I am in no hurry," continued 
 the lady, looking down at her dress. 
 " Now that I have this, a day or even 
 longer, would make no difference." 
 
 "Quite so," said Achille again, step- 
 108
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 ping on his own toe to make sure that he 
 was awake. " I think we are coming to 
 a large town, and it might be well to 
 stop." 
 
 " I should like an omelet for my 
 breakfast," said the Countess, " and you 
 must buy a new cap that one is insuf 
 ferable and a new blouse. Then we 
 can pass for respectable peasants 
 brother and sister." 
 
 "St. Juste! Vingt minutes d'arret!" 
 called the guard, and the train emptied 
 itself of hungry passengers, who 
 crowded toward the buffet all save 
 two respectable peasants, brother and 
 sister, who quickly left the platform, 
 and disappeared into the town. 
 
 109
 
 VII 
 
 An hour later, when they had break 
 fasted at the Black Eagle, and ex 
 hausted the shop windows about the 
 market place, they entered an old 
 church and the Countess offered Achille 
 a drop of holy water on the end of her 
 finger. Then they admired the win 
 dows and wandered leisurely from 
 chapel to chapel, and he told her which 
 parts of the edifice were Norman and 
 which later Gothic, and pointed out the 
 alterations of the Period of the 
 Renaissance, and she listened and asked 
 questions, and together they found 
 wonderful old figures and bits of carv 
 ing, and bribed the sacristan to show 
 them the vestments and jewels; and 
 the bells rang for ten o'clock before 
 in
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 they remembered that they had forgot 
 ten the conveyance. 
 
 " Before we go," said the Countess, 
 " we must light two candles for St. 
 Anthony of Padua." 
 
 " Why for him?" asked Achilla. 
 
 " He has a special care for lost 
 articles," she answered. 
 
 They bought their tall candles from 
 an old crone dozing in a corner, and set 
 them on the spikes of the candlestick 
 where other votives burnt; and as the 
 girl knelt in the soft light beneath, the 
 young man stood behind her, and look 
 ing up at the kind old Saint, assured 
 him privately that the matter was not 
 pressing. 
 
 The day had grown warm, and when 
 they left the church they strolled into 
 the small botanical garden which is the 
 chief ornament of St. Juste, and sat 
 upon a bench beside the fountain. The 
 place at this hour was occupied only by 
 
 112
 
 The Inn of the^ Silver Moon 
 
 an elderly gentleman who read his 
 paper on a distant seat, and some 
 nursemaids on the other side of the 
 basin gossiping together while their 
 charges played about them. 
 
 " It will be pleasanter driving when 
 the afternoon grows cool," said Achille. 
 
 "Much pleasanter," assented the 
 Countess. " Do you know, this garden 
 reminds me so much of the convent ? 
 Have you ever been in a convent? " 
 
 " Only in an extinct convent, I have 
 never seen one in active operation." 
 
 " I suppose not. Well, there is a 
 broad path like this in the middle of the 
 garden where the girls walk up and 
 down, but there are statues of saints 
 along the side and whenever you come 
 to one you must say a prayer and think 
 how bad you are! It is nothing but a 
 long rosary." 
 
 " But suppose that you are not at all 
 bad ? " 
 
 "3
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " You can't help being bad where 
 everything you can possibly do is wrong. 
 There is another path around the gar 
 den near the wall, but only the Sisters 
 are allowed there; they are afraid that 
 people will throw notes over the wall." 
 
 "Notes?" 
 
 '' Yes, letters, but of course nobody 
 does." 
 
 "Of course not." 
 
 " It is so much simpler to have them 
 directed to the cook, and then they are 
 brought up with your coffee." 
 
 " That cook should be discharged," 
 said Achille firmly. 
 
 "Oh no, indeed! if it had not been 
 for a cook I should never have had a 
 book to read." 
 
 " Were there no books in the con 
 vent?" 
 
 " Not the kind I mean. I think, Mon 
 sieur DuLorme, I ought to tell you 
 something that I fear will lower me in 
 114
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 your estimation. Listen, please, and do 
 not interrupt till I have made my con 
 fession. Two years ago I happened to 
 overhear the Mother Superior severely 
 condemning a writer and his books. 
 Naturally I desired nothing in the world 
 so much as to read those books, and 
 naturally I read them thanks to the 
 cook. It was wrong, but I did. They 
 were written by a foreigner an Amer 
 ican one William Dean Howells; a 
 wicked and dangerous man. It was his 
 fiendish object to depict the world, not 
 of course as it is, filled with dangers 
 and pitfalls, but instead as peopled with 
 kind and generous men and women 
 who would not hurt one if they could. 
 " The girls of whom he wrote could 
 speak to perfect strangers and meet with 
 nothing but respect and courtesy. He 
 made light of the perils that beset 
 women who stray from the path of 
 convention. He did not argue against 
 i is
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 restraints: he ignored them. Like the 
 snake in Eden, he held out the apple 
 saying: 'Eat and know, thou shalt not 
 surely die.' 
 
 " I know that this is false and wrong, 
 or why should those who are wiser than 
 I take so much trouble to teach me that 
 it is ? But having once tasted the 
 intoxication of freedom, I fear that I 
 shall never again like the watered wine 
 of conventional restraint. I feel that 
 the insidious poison of confidence in 
 mankind has entered my blood, and 
 that I shall never know again the sweet 
 suspicion and mistrust of my earlier 
 years. Monsieur, I have lost my belief 
 in universal depravity." 
 
 The Countess paused, and Achille 
 said cautiously 
 
 " I have read the works of this Mon 
 sieur Howells, and, believe me, I have 
 not found them as bad as you have 
 pictured them." 
 
 116
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Have you read 'The Lady of the 
 Aroostook' ? " 
 
 " I have, and although the startling 
 exploits of that extraordinary young 
 person in crossing the world without a 
 chaperon shocked me at the time, I 
 must own that I have since thought that 
 I should like to know her." 
 
 " It is only your kindness of heart. 
 Monsieur, that prompts you to comfort 
 me." 
 
 " Not altogether," said the young 
 man seriously, " for I have a confession 
 to make also. In my boyhood I fell a 
 victim to the American romance; I read 
 the writings of Monsieur Cooper, and 
 since then my life has been duplex. I 
 have outwardly accepted the standards 
 of my station, while inwardly chafing 
 beneath its limitations. Mademoiselle, 
 may I venture the hope that I have at 
 last met one who can understand that 
 beneath the exterior of a provincial 
 117
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 rentier may lurk the spirit of Uncas, the 
 Last of the Mohicans ? " 
 
 " I do not know of Monsieur Uncas," 
 sighed the Countess, " but tell me, and 
 tell me truly, would he have despised 
 the Lady of the Aroostook ? " 
 
 "He would have adored her, he would 
 have worshiped her!" cried Achille 
 with ardor, at the same time making a 
 movement to capture the hand that 
 chanced to rest near his own. 
 
 " Do you think," said the lady, with 
 drawing her hand, " that he would have 
 told her so until she was in the wigwam 
 of her people ?" 
 
 " No," answered the young man sit 
 ting erect, " that would have been the 
 act of an inferior savage." 
 
 "Have you any dogs, Monsieur?" 
 asked the Countess. 
 
 Of all the sentences that had fallen 
 from her lips, Achille treasured this 
 question as the most angelic. He told 
 118
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 her of Boy, and Toto the pug, and 
 Brutus the watch dog, and incidentally 
 something of his garden and the serv 
 ants. Presently their talk drifted back 
 to the Pig Market and mention was 
 made of her companion who had so 
 suddenly disappeared. 
 
 " She was a chance acquaintance," 
 explained the Countess. " The convent, 
 which is really a hotel with bars on the 
 windows, was crowded, and we were 
 given a room together. It seems that 
 the Sisters (in addition to taking care 
 of girls who must be somewhere, but 
 are not wanted anywhere in particular) 
 maintain a species of consigne where 
 wives may be checked till called for, 
 and that her husband being obliged to 
 go abroad had left her there. I soon 
 found that my roommate had an 
 arrangement with the baker, who has a 
 key to the small gate in the garden wall 
 in order to bring in the bread, by which 
 119
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 she was able to go out during the hours 
 of private meditation. The baker 
 rented bicycles, and sometimes we went 
 riding together, but never very far. It 
 was my fault that we were at the fair. 
 I had heard of the country about Gres- 
 lin and wanted to see it." 
 
 " I trust that you were not dis 
 appointed." 
 
 " I think it well repays a visit." 
 
 " If you will allow me to say it," ven 
 tured Achille, " it might have been more 
 prudent to have selected another day, 
 although of course your adventure 
 would not have turned out as it did, 
 had it not been for my stupidity in going 
 to sleep. Mademoiselle, can I ever 
 thank you for not reproaching me! " 
 
 The Countess laughed softly. 
 
 " That would not have been fair," 
 she answered, " especially as I hap 
 pened to be awake when we made the 
 wrong turning." 
 
 1 20
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " You were awake ! You knew! " 
 
 " Yes, but it would have been so stu 
 pid to go straight back." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, it was the height of 
 imprudence! " 
 
 " Pooh! I knew that I should be 
 as well cared for as though I had 
 gone roaming the hills with Leo 
 XIII." 
 
 "Ah! "cried Achilla, "let this be a 
 lesson! You thought yourself with the 
 worthy DuLorme, of whom, believe me, 
 I have never so much as heard, 
 while I ..." 
 
 " While you are Monsieur Achille 
 Vifour. I have known that from the 
 first." 
 
 "PARDON!" 
 
 The voice was like that of a cannon 
 breaking in upon the quiet of a summer 
 evening. The speaker wore his cocked 
 hat sideways, and by other peculiarities 
 of costume proclaimed himself an officer 
 
 121
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 of the law. While the wanderers had 
 laughed and whispered of their own 
 concerns, Fate had come upon them in 
 the uniform of a sergeant of gendarmes, 
 who stood making a military salute in 
 sickening travesty of respect. 
 
 " I regret the necessity of disturbing 
 Monsieur," said the officer, " but he will 
 not deny that the cap which he has now 
 upon his head was purchased one hour 
 ago at the chapellerie Rosenberg for the 
 sum of two francs-fifty." 
 
 " I do not attempt to deny it," an 
 swered Achille, "especially as I saw you 
 watching me from the street, but why 
 should I not buy it? " 
 
 "Have a care!" said the officer, 
 sternly, " let me caution you that what 
 ever you may say will be used against 
 you at your trial." 
 
 "At my trial! " cried Achille, flushing 
 with anger and surprise. 
 
 ' The old cap left in the shop of 
 
 122
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Rosenberg contains evidence of the 
 most incriminating nature." 
 
 "Of what am I accused?" gasped 
 Achille. 
 
 " Of what is Pierre Rabot, of many 
 aliases, not accused?" 
 
 " Pierre Rabot is a scoundrel! " 
 
 " I advise you to reserve any confes 
 sion that you may have to make. It 
 will be more useful to denounce yourself 
 before the court. Come with me. 
 Madame may remain." 
 
 " Madame will not remain," retorted 
 the Countess, with spirit. " You have 
 made some imbecile mistake for which 
 you will be reprimanded by the 
 judge." 
 
 The gendarme smiled grimly. 
 
 " The Law does not make mistakes," 
 he answered. " That is left for foolish 
 women who leave their household 
 duties to keep appointments in the 
 garden." 
 
 123
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "The Military never have appoint 
 ments in the garden!" said the Countess, 
 tossing her head, which pleased the 
 gendarme, for he liked to be considered 
 of the military, and his moustaches were 
 waxed. 
 
 The officer, holding Achille firmly 
 with his large right hand, marched from 
 the garden, while the Countess upon the 
 left kept up a running fire of conversa 
 tion, and laughed with affected gaiety, 
 to give the procession the semblance of 
 an amiable promenade. 
 
 "Unnecessary words are not per 
 mitted while on duty," said the ser 
 geant. 
 
 " That does not prevent your listen 
 ing," laughed the Countess. " I knew a 
 gendarme once who arrested a dress 
 maker's dummy for being out in the 
 street too late, and the circumstance 
 so affected her reputation that he was 
 obliged to marry her." 
 124
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Marry the dummy? " 
 
 " No, the dressmaker, stupid! I knew 
 of another . . . 
 
 " Silence, we are about to pass the 
 residence of the judge." 
 
 " Is that the judge ? that little jackdaw 
 there in the garden, eating his breakfast 
 with his napkin tucked under his chin! 
 Will he try us with the cotelette aux 
 pommes? will he give sentence with the 
 fromage de brie?" 
 
 " Madame," said the gendarme, " I 
 dare not look in that direction, but if 
 you can do so unobserved will you have 
 the goodness to note what he is 
 eating?" 
 
 " He is at this moment breaking an 
 egg with his knife." 
 
 " Parbleu! he will not be through for 
 an hour, and he has the key of the 
 court in his pocket. It will be necessary 
 for us to continue marching." 
 
 " But not in the streets, I pray you! 
 125
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Let us go down to the river and walk 
 up and down along the bank." 
 
 The sergeant drew himself to his full 
 height; but when the Countess nudged 
 him with her elbow, he gave the order 
 "left wheel" to his prisoner, and they 
 turned into a steep and narrow lane at 
 the end of which was a glimpse of trees 
 and the shimmer of water. 
 
 The river that washes the quiet quy 
 of St. Juste is an orderly river. It has 
 guide posts telling the voyager where 
 he must not land and where he is for 
 bidden to fish; there are neat walls 
 along the edges like a canal, and tree- 
 lined sidewalks like a boulevard; the 
 very islands in the stream remind one 
 of the refuge places where the timid 
 seek safety from omnibuses. 
 
 When the sergeant with his charge 
 
 came out upon the quay they found the 
 
 place almost deserted. Two scows of 
 
 sand, one full, the other half unloaded 
 
 126
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 lay moored against the wall awaiting 
 the return of the workmen from their 
 breakfast. In the shadow of a pile of 
 bricks some horses munched their oats. 
 A woman came up the ramp from the 
 water's edge wheeling a barrow of wet 
 linen; below a boy washed a large 
 yellow dog, and near him a skiff with 
 oars still in the rowlocks was drawn 
 up a little on the flags that it might not 
 float away during its owner's absence. 
 
 " Let's go down and see him wash the 
 dog," said the Countess. " We shall not 
 be seen there, and you know if it should 
 turn out that you have made a mistake 
 you would be sorry if we were too con 
 spicuous." 
 
 As they reached the waterside, the 
 dog, being at the moment liberated, 
 shook himself violently and with such 
 effect that the officer, who happened to 
 be nearest, was spattered from head to 
 foot. 
 
 127
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Bad luck to the beast!" he shouted, 
 angrily. " How am I to present myself 
 before the judge looking like . . . 
 like . . . 
 
 " An educated seal," suggested the 
 Countess, but the gendarme only said 
 coldly: 
 
 " Now we shall have to remain in the 
 sun till I am dry." 
 
 The Countess clapped her hands. 
 
 "I have it!" she cried, "we will go 
 out in the boat and you can sit in the 
 sun and dry. Perhaps we might row 
 over to that lovely little island, and 
 while your prisoner roamed about you 
 and I could stay in the boat and chat. 
 It would be much pleasanter than walk 
 ing three abreast on these scorching 
 stones, and your poor hand must be 
 tired holding his arm. Ah, come! your 
 sweetheart will never know." 
 
 The sergeant, who was the father of 
 a family, chuckled fatuously, and as the 
 128
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 plan seemed feasible, ordered Achille 
 to push the boat into the water while 
 he kept a firm hold on the skirts of the 
 stiff new blouse. Pierre Rabot's gar 
 ment had been rolled into a ball and 
 carefully tied in a red cotton handker 
 chief in accordance with the Countess' 
 theory that such a piece of baggage 
 was indispensable as an evidence of 
 peasant respectability. 
 
 When they embarked Achille was 
 assigned to the oars, the Countess 
 claimed the privilege of the rudder, and 
 the sergeant sat forward where he 
 could enjoy the benefit of the sun and 
 at the same time keep a close watch 
 upon his captive. A hundred strokes 
 sent the light craft across the strip of 
 water, and as nobody happened to be 
 looking out ahead, brought the prow 
 in such violent contact with the 
 shelving bottom full two metres from 
 the bank, that the officer was for a 
 129
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 moment in imminent danger of falling 
 out. 
 
 " Have a care what you are about," 
 he shouted. " I warn you that any act 
 of disrespect will be used against you 
 at the trial." 
 
 " Pardon," said Achille, and this was 
 the first word he had spoken since they 
 left the fountain. 
 
 "Can't we get nearer?" asked the 
 Countess. 
 
 " No," replied the sergeant who had 
 been taking soundings with his sword, 
 " the prow is already on the sand and 
 the water ahead is more shallow." 
 
 "What shall we do?" 
 
 " Go back. Stop rowing there, you 
 are pushing aground." 
 
 " I will not go back until I have seen 
 that island. I will tell you how we can 
 manage. You, Monsieur la Capitaine, 
 leap ashore, the boat will easily go up 
 when you are out." 
 
 130
 
 That night be used against me at the trial.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 The sergeant stood up and measured 
 the distance with his eye. 
 
 " It is a pretty good jump," he said 
 dubiously. 
 
 " I am sure that I could do it," said 
 the Countess. 
 
 " Will you give me a kiss if I do it ?" 
 
 " The moment I am on the island." 
 
 " Well, here goes," said the sergeant, 
 and he jumped. 
 
 He alighted in water above his an 
 kles and splashed toward the land mut 
 tering soldierly expletives, and the boat 
 relieved of his weight floated freely, 
 but the recoil of the jump had driven it 
 well out in the stream where the cur 
 rent took it rapidly still further away. 
 
 " Come right in here," yelled the ser 
 geant, " the water is deep enough. 
 Pull on your left oar, idiot! " 
 
 " I am afraid," retorted Achille, "that 
 might be used against me at the 
 trial."
 
 VIII 
 
 Achilla rowed with more force than 
 finish, taking the direction of least 
 resistance, and the current being strong, 
 the marooned official was soon a ges 
 ticulating speck far astern. As long as 
 he remained in sight the Countess con 
 tinued to wave her handkerchief, and 
 to a chance observer on the shore 
 the scene might readily have been 
 interpreted as the parting of exception 
 ally good friends. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," exclaimed the 
 rower, pausing to wipe his forehead, 
 " words fail me to express my admira 
 tion for your strategy. It was Na 
 poleonic." 
 
 " The favoring circumstances may 
 have been Napoleonic," she answered 
 133
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 modestly, and there was a note of 
 regret as she added " but it did not go 
 as far as strategy." 
 
 " Surely you would not have wished 
 it to go further?" 
 
 " Well," sighed the lady, " I was pre 
 pared to fall in love with the judge." 
 
 Achille resumed the rowing with un 
 necessary vigor, and there was silence 
 till presently she asked: 
 
 " Ought the water to come into the 
 boat? "and a hurried examination re 
 vealed an open seam through which the 
 river entered with alarming rapidity. 
 
 Achille at first made light of the diffi 
 culty, and began to bale industriously, 
 but when it became apparent that the 
 leak was gaining, he gave the dipper to 
 the Countess and put his whole strength 
 to the oars. They were now in the 
 open channel, and from the rapidly set 
 tling boat the shore seemed at every 
 stroke to recede still further, but con-
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 cerned only with their present dan 
 ger the fugitives noticed nothing till, 
 startled by the clanging of a gong, 
 they looked up to see the sharp red 
 prow of a vessel bearing down upon 
 them. 
 
 " Place, if you please! What do you 
 mean by getting in my way like that?" 
 shouted a man in the guttural ac 
 cents of an Alsatian. 
 
 " Here you, take us aboard, we are 
 sinking. You can put us on shore 
 wherever you please," called Achille. 
 
 " If you are really sinking I must 
 take you on board, but I cannot stop to 
 put you on shore. I have business 
 to attend to and no time to trifle 
 with idiots who row in a sieve." 
 
 " You may take us where you are 
 going, and we will pay our fare." 
 
 " In that case I should be fined, for I 
 have no license to carry passengers." 
 
 " Let us discuss that when we are on
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 deck. Don't you see that we are in 
 danger?" 
 
 " Your boat will not sink for several 
 minutes, and I must know in what 
 capacity you are to come on my vessel. 
 Monsieur is evidently not a man of 
 business." 
 
 " We will become members of your 
 crew." 
 
 " And great additions you would be! 
 Can you cook? " 
 
 " Perhaps; I have never tried." 
 
 " I can," interrupted the Countess, " I 
 can cook like a cordon bleu, and my 
 brother is an excellent valet de cham- 
 bre." 
 
 "Well," said the captain, "at all 
 events you are a fine girl, and I will em 
 ploy you both; but remember it is to be 
 without pay. My cook was at the last 
 moment obliged to go to the dentist's 
 and the mousse is frivolous and light- 
 minded.'' 
 
 136
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " We will agree to your terms," cried 
 Achille, impatiently, " but do hurry and 
 let down a ladder." 
 
 " Not so fast, my friend. I must ask 
 you first if you leave the boat will- 
 ingly?" 
 
 "Willingly!" exclaimed Achille, "I 
 assure you I have never in my life been 
 more willing to leave a place." 
 
 " It is important that this should be 
 understood, because if you abandon the 
 boat of your own accord it becomes 
 a derelict and the prize of whoever 
 picks it up, whereas if it were only a 
 question of salvage. . ." 
 
 "The boat is yours!" interrupted 
 Achille savagely, and a ladder being 
 lowered the travelers were assisted to 
 the deck where the captain greeted 
 them with greater show of good will 
 than his words had led them to ex 
 pect. 
 
 " You see," he said, " I am in the
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 wrecking business and make my living 
 by accidents on the river, and I am now 
 on my way to recover a cargo of wine 
 that has sunk in a barge. I am glad to 
 have been of service, but the delay has 
 cost me something, and I cannot afford 
 to relinquish any rights that are mine 
 by law." 
 
 "What a beautiful ship," exclaimed 
 the Countess, looking about her at the 
 various appliances that adorned the 
 vessel's deck. " Is that a yard arm?" 
 
 " No," replied the captain, smiling, 
 " that is a derrick." 
 
 " I thought," said the Countess, "that 
 it was where you hang people when you 
 have a mutiny. This I suppose is a 
 boiler or a binnacle, or is it a belaying 
 pin?" 
 
 " It is neither," replied the delighted 
 
 seaman, with whom the imparting of 
 
 information was a passion. " That is 
 
 what we call a windlass. It is an im- 
 
 138
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 provement on the ordinary pattern 
 which I have invented myself, and if you 
 will come nearer I will explain exactly 
 how it works." 
 
 " I think that as I am to be the cook, 
 it would be better to explain the kitchen 
 first." 
 
 " As you please, my dear young lady. 
 We started hurriedly and have not 
 breakfasted, so you may begin your 
 duties at once. Here is the kitchen- 
 small but very convenient, and opening 
 directly on the deck. Here are the 
 provisions still in the boxes, nothing 
 has been unpacked. You will find a 
 hammer on the shelf and your brother 
 can open the crates. There is a lobster 
 somewhere and some cutlets, onions for 
 soup, and a quantity of artichokes." 
 
 " Do you think that one lobster will 
 be enough for all the sailors ? " 
 
 The captain was in ecstacy. 
 
 " You will ruin me," cried he, " lobster 
 139
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 for the crew ? No, my charming cook, 
 we have nothing to do with those fel 
 lows down below. You will prepare 
 only the most dainty dishes, and we 
 will eat them together quite like a 
 family. I am a true democrat, and the 
 cook shall sit at my table." 
 
 " And the valet ? " 
 
 "And the valet, the brother, certainly! 
 As the saying is, 'the hair goes with the 
 hide.' Now I shall leave you to your 
 work. I will return from time to time 
 to see if you need anything." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," began Achille,when 
 the two were alone, " I must caution 
 you not to be quite so so agreeable to 
 this animal of a captain." 
 
 " It never does any harm to have 
 people feel pleasantly toward you," 
 pouted the Countess. " Come, let us 
 find the lobster. Do you think it would 
 be well to serve it a la Diable?" 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 140
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Achilla took the hammer and began 
 viciously striking the covers from the 
 six boxes ranged along the kitchen 
 wall. The first one contained candles 
 wrapped in blue paper in packages of 
 five, so he turned to the next. This 
 disclosed other packages of candles, as 
 also did the other four. Neither lobster 
 nor cutlet, nor artichoke nor onion, only 
 candles in blue paper wrappings. It 
 was plain that some fatal error had 
 been made. 
 
 " Ha, ha! " laughed Achille, -" here is 
 a breakfast for the czar! How will the 
 noble captain have his candles, plain, 
 or cooked in their own fat ? " 
 
 "It is too bad," cried the Countess, 
 "I always wanted to make a lobster a 
 la Diable." 
 
 11 1 forgot," said the captain, thrusting 
 his head in at the door " I forgot to 
 tell you about the duckling, smothered 
 in onions " 
 
 141
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 When the captain returned from 
 behind the wheel house where he had 
 spent the first moments of his disap 
 pointment, his face had lost much of 
 the cheerfulness that had been its chief 
 attraction. 
 
 " I had intended," he explained sadly, 
 " to make this something of a fete. 1 
 receive pay in proportion to the value 
 of the wreck, and this cargo of wine is 
 composed of the most costly vintages. 
 It is not often that I can afford such ex 
 travagances, and that lobster was a 
 dream." 
 
 " As there is nothing to cook," sug 
 gested the Countess, " perhaps there 
 are other ways in which we could be 
 useful." 
 
 " Not a word of such a thing! " 
 
 exclaimed the mariner. "You are my 
 
 guests. There is nothing in my license 
 
 to prevent my carrying guests; it was 
 
 142
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 stupid of me not to have thought of 
 that sooner." 
 
 "Monsieur is very amiable," replied 
 the lady, " but we should not be idle. 
 If you could supply me with some 
 colored thread I should be happy to 
 work your monogram on anything in 
 the boat you may select." 
 
 The worthy Alsatian refused to enter 
 tain the suggestion, and soon after 
 invited his guests, with many apologies, 
 into his private cabin, where the mousse 
 served them bountifully with an excel 
 lent mutton stew from the forecastle 
 mess, and some fried cat-fish that were 
 not so good. 
 
 During the meal, the Countess dis 
 played a curiosity concerning the 
 wrecking industry which Achille was 
 far from sharing, and the host cheered 
 by her interest, and the contents of a 
 bottle which, he said, had lain for twenty 
 years under water in the hull of a Bor- 
 143
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 deaux wine ship told with a nice 
 attention to detail of his experiences 
 upon the river and the profit or loss 
 that had resulted from several ventures. 
 
 Meanwhile the little steamer, aided 
 more by the current than her own 
 clanking engine and splashing paddles, 
 went rapidly upon her course, and 
 although one looking toward the tree- 
 lined shore would have found it difficult 
 to believe that St. Juste was not still in 
 sight, that thriving city lay in reality 
 leagues astern. 
 
 " How long will it take to get where 
 we are going?" asked the Countess, 
 when the party had seated themselves 
 on coils of rope upon the quarter 
 deck. 
 
 " About seven hours," replied the 
 captain, lighting a cigarette and offer 
 ing the package to Achille.whodeclined. 
 " We shall cast anchor beside the 
 wreck for to-night, and if all goes well 
 144
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 we shall be ready to begin hoisting by 
 five o'clock to-morrow morning." 
 " How long will that take ? " 
 " Possibly three days, possibly longer 
 I think I was saying, that the wreck 
 of the oil barge was not so fortunate as 
 the last expedition of which I told you. 
 The value of the cargo was five thou 
 sand four hundred and seventy-five 
 francs, as shown by the insurance policy 
 which was for three thousand two 
 hundred and fifty. My share should 
 have been ten per cent, or five hundred 
 and forty-seven francs, and I should 
 have made a profit of perhaps two 
 hundred and thirty or two hundred and 
 forty francs at least, if the eccentric 
 had not broken. I must first explain 
 to you, Mademoiselle, that this eccen 
 tric" 
 
 " Monsieur," interrupted the Count 
 ess, with difficulty suppressing a yawn, 
 " I am much fatigued, and I am sure 
 MS
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 that I should understand your story 
 better if you would allow me take a nap 
 on that delightful sofa in your cabin." 
 
 "If Mademoiselle will consider herself 
 the owner of the cabin," said the 
 gallant wrecker, rising, " I shall be 
 supremely happy." 
 
 Achille, alone with his entertainer, 
 resigned himself to the story of the oil 
 barge, but the end thereof he was not 
 destined to know. No sooner had the 
 cabin door closed upon the Countess, 
 than he felt the heavy hand of the 
 captain descend affectionately upon his 
 shoulder, and heard his voice exclaim 
 ing in the guttural accents of Alsace 
 
 " Your sister is charming! " 
 
 "My sister! Ah, oh yes. She is a 
 worthy young woman and not consid 
 ered unattractive," assented Achille 
 modestly, as one who does not care to 
 boast of merit in his own family. 
 
 The captain puffed his cheeks till his 
 146
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 eyes bulged out in a manner which 
 recalled the facial expression of the 
 lamented lobster. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said in the bluff and 
 hearty manner of the sea; " Monsieur, I 
 am a man of affairs. I make up my 
 mind quickly. I act quickly. I use few 
 words; when I say 'yes' I mean 'y es ' 
 and when I say 'no' I mean 'no.' I am 
 not like the Normans who say 'We shall 
 see' or ' Perhaps, if things go our way 
 we will consider.' I come to the point 
 quickly. It is my habit and I have 
 found that it is good policy. 'Few words 
 and to the purpose/ that's my motto 
 1 Few words and to the purpose!' ' 
 
 " An excellent motto," said Achille, 
 who wished that they had not left the 
 topic of the eccentric. 
 
 " You think so, don't you! Then we 
 shall get on admirably." 
 
 " I trust that we shall." 
 
 " Now some men," pursued the cap-
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 tain, "cannot buy a chicken without 
 poking a hole in it with their fingers. 
 Some men will not employ a sailor till 
 they have seen his baptismal certificate. 
 Some men won't drink a bottle of wine 
 till they have examined the cork. That 
 is not my way. In our business it would 
 never do; one must learn to rely upon 
 his own judgment." 
 
 " Certainly! " said the other, writhing. 
 
 " You see what I am coming to ?" 
 
 " Well, not exactly." 
 
 " I shall marry your sister! No, do 
 not protest. I anticipate all that you 
 would say, I have known her but an 
 hour! Parbleu, it is a risk, but all mar 
 riage is a risk. 'A pig in a bag,' as 
 they say, but it is my way. I own that 
 I might perhaps have done better, but 
 then, after all, who knows ? I admit 
 that there is a widow no entangle 
 ment I assure you! a widow with an 
 excellent cheese business, who will be 
 148
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 disconsolate, but we cannot account for 
 the heart." 
 
 "Monsieur!" cried the young man, 
 crimson with indignation. 
 
 " Monsieur the captain," interrupted 
 a sailor, touching his cap, "the mousse 
 has used all the machine oil to fry the 
 cat-fish and the engineer is in de 
 spair." 
 
 While the captain pursued the mousse 
 from one end of the deck to the other 
 with the avowed intention of taking his 
 life, Achille sat upon a heap of chain 
 and reflected dismally upon this new 
 perplexity, his eyes fixed upon the green 
 door of the cabin, behind which slept 
 the Countess, happily unconscious of 
 the trouble that awaited her. Finally 
 he arrived at two conclusions; first, 
 that in their present position, it would 
 be imprudent to quarrel with the cap 
 tain of the vessel, on which they were 
 practically prisoners; and second, that 
 149
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 the knowledge of the man's proposal 
 must be kept from the Countess until 
 she should be free from any possible 
 annoyance at his hands. He had dis 
 approved from the first of her efforts to 
 make the captain "feel pleasantly" 
 toward her, but he reflected that it was 
 a like pleasant feeling in the breast of 
 the gendarme that had contributed to 
 their escape from St. Juste, and resolved 
 to continue her plan of battle, while 
 keeping a close watch for a circum 
 stance that might induce the captain to 
 make a landing. With this in view he 
 greeted the seaman cordially on his 
 return and inquired with affected un 
 concern if it would be necessary to go 
 on shore to procure more oil. 
 
 " No," replied the captain. " We will 
 use butter and the cost will be deducted 
 from the boy's pay." 
 
 " That is only fair." 
 
 "And now, my dear friend, let us 
 150
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 return to more agreeable matters. You 
 have been thinking of what I said?" 
 
 " I have indeed; but I must tell you, 
 Monsieur, that, flattered as I am by 
 your proposal for my sister's hand, I 
 can say nothing until we have laid the 
 matter before our grandmother. She 
 has promised that her entire fortune 
 shall go to my sister on condition that 
 no marriage shall take place without 
 her consent." 
 
 " Is the good lady old?" 
 
 " Yes, she is ninety-seven and lately 
 her health has given us much anxiety." 
 
 "You say she is not in want?" 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur, she is very rich, and 
 I have good reason for believing that 
 her fortune is even greater than we 
 suppose." 
 
 " Where does she live? " 
 
 "Monsieur!" exclaimed Achille, 
 springing to his feet in evident excite 
 ment, " Monsieur, what town is that
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 upon the left bank? Yes, surely there 
 is the church! It is, it must be !" 
 
 " That is Aix-sur-Ouse." 
 
 "I knew it! I was certain! There, 
 my friend, just below the church is the 
 red roof of my grandmother's cottage. 
 Ah, little does she know, good soul, 
 how near her beloved Suzette is pass- 
 ing! " 
 
 " Do you mean the long roof with the 
 two chimneys?" asked the captain, 
 breathing audibly. 
 
 " No, Monsieur, the smaller one a 
 little to the right. It is a humble cot 
 tage, for grandmother is very econom 
 ical." 
 
 " Do you think that it would be well 
 to stop?" 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur, think of your busi 
 ness. There will be time enough when 
 we come back; everything can be set 
 tled in an hour." 
 
 " Do you think we could see her now ? " 
 152
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " This is the time of day when 
 she is the most amiable; but your busi 
 ness 
 
 " That shall wait. I am not a man to 
 hesitate when I have made up my 
 mind! Here, mate, slow up! Give or 
 ders to land at Aix! " 
 
 "Good!" cried the grandson with 
 enthusiasm, adding in a whisper, "re 
 member not a word to my sister; she is 
 a sensitive girl and would shrink from 
 any mention of her marriage till all has 
 been arranged." 
 
 " I am not a Breton to be guilty of 
 such indelicacy," replied the sailor, 
 proudly. 
 
 Achille now rapped upon the cabin 
 door and called in joyous tones: 
 
 "Suzette, come out! We are ap 
 proaching Aix and the good captain 
 has consented to stop for an hour that 
 we may visit our beloved grandmother." 
 
 The face of the Countess as she ap-
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 peared wore the puzzled expression 
 common with persons recently roused 
 from slumber, but she clapped her 
 hands and cried: 
 
 " Ah, the dear grandmother, what joy 
 to see her! and the dear grandfather 
 too! " 
 
 "Grandfather!" ejaculated the cap 
 tain. 
 
 " His grave is in the cemetery beside 
 the church," said Achille, softly. 
 
 The captain lifted his hat and the 
 Countess wiped her eyes. 
 
 " I cannot think of him as gone," she 
 
 said. 
 
 ****** 
 
 "Steady! Back a little! Jump off 
 and catch the rope! Monsieur, the 
 landing is made! " 
 
 After an earnest consultation between 
 the prospective brothers-in-law it was 
 decided that the impatient lover should 
 remain on his vessel until the old lady
 
 The Inn of the" Silver Moon 
 
 had been made acquainted with his pro 
 posal. 
 
 " I will rely upon you, my dear friend, 
 to present the matter in its proper light. 
 You know something of my business, 
 you know what sort of a man I am." 
 
 " I know all that I care to know of 
 both," said Achille, warmly pressing his 
 hand. 
 
 " I shall expect you in an hour! " 
 
 " It will be sooner. Meanwhile I will 
 confide this bundle to your care, it does 
 not appear valuable, but may I ask you 
 not to let it leave your hands till I re 
 turn." 
 
 "I promise faithfully that it shall 
 not," replied the captain as he received 
 with great respect the cast off blouse of 
 Pierre Rabot. 
 
 "Au revoir, my friend. Come, Su- 
 zette," but Suzette was already on 
 shore. 
 
 The brother and sister skirted the
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 short row of low-gabled houses that led 
 in the direction of the red-tiled cottage; 
 and neither paused nor seemed to hesi 
 tate till they had passed the corner and 
 were hidden even from the mousse upon 
 the derrick. 
 
 " Have you ever been here before ?' 
 asked the Countess. 
 
 " No, but I have seen a diligence 
 from here pass my house every evening, 
 and I have hopes that we may catch it." 
 
 " What did you say to the captain ? " 
 
 " I promised that you should be en 
 gaged to him in an hour." 
 
 "Monsieur!" 
 
 "Yes, I have given my consent, and 
 nothing is lacking but the formal bless 
 ing of your grandmother." 
 
 The Countess tossed her head. 
 
 " For my part," she said, " I should 
 rather be engaged to the captain than 
 arrested." 
 
 156
 
 IX 
 
 Guided by eight native children and 
 a resident goat, no market place is 
 difficult to find, and it was not long be 
 fore the travelers, emerging from the 
 shadow of the church, uttered exclama 
 tions of joy at the sight of a small red 
 omnibus standing before the inn. Its 
 seated passengers and exalted driver 
 announced the moment of departure to 
 be near, and upon the door of the 
 vehicle were the two words, GRESLIN 
 AIX. 
 
 Tossing a handful of copper coins to 
 the expectant escort, Achille lost no 
 time in pre-empting the seat behind the 
 box, which had fortunately been left 
 vacant by the peasant patrons of the 
 line, and almost before he could turn to
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 his companion with felicitations on 
 their good fortune, they were rattling 
 over the stones to the post office for the 
 mail. Thence they drove up a side 
 street and waited while a stout peasant 
 bound a cord about his hair trunk and 
 embraced his tearful family. 
 
 "Are we really off?" asked the 
 Countess, glancing nervously behind, 
 when the trunk had at last been lifted 
 tenderly to the top. 
 
 "All in the hour, Madame," replied 
 the conductor, soothingly, " I have but 
 one other passenger, who lives upon the 
 quay." 
 
 "Upon the quay!" cried Achille, 
 thrusting a hand into his pocket, " I'll 
 give you twenty francs to forget him." 
 
 " Let me see your money," said the 
 coachman. 
 
 The omnibus did not drive to the 
 house upon the quay, but straight out 
 into the country, and before long the 
 158
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 red-tiled roof of the captain's dreams, 
 and even the tower of the church were 
 lost behind the trees. It was a pleasant 
 land of haystacks and hamlets through 
 which they rode, a land of cattle and 
 children, of dogs and hollyhocks; and, 
 in spite of some little uncertainty 
 concerning the future, the spirit of 
 homewardbound came over the 
 travelers, and they chatted gaily of 
 past experiences as folks who near 
 their journey's end. Achille was 
 amusing at the expense of the captain, 
 and the Countess showed him the cork 
 of the bottle that she had taken from 
 the cabin for a souvenir. Then he 
 asked her to tell him the secret of the 
 peasant girl in the railway carriage. 
 
 " She is my foster sister," said the 
 Countess, " who happened by good for 
 tune to be on her way this morning to 
 attend the christening of her brother's 
 child, with her entire wardrobe in a
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 black basket. Of course, she would do 
 anything for me, and sometime I shall 
 send her a new frock." 
 
 " At the next village," said the coach 
 man, who had been making the most 
 of the rare experience of passengers 
 unfamiliar with the road, "one can buy 
 barley sugar manufactured at the con 
 vent." 
 
 "And what is the name of the place?" 
 inquired the lady, politely. 
 
 " St. Ives." 
 
 " You have now made the circuit of 
 the Department," said Achille, laugh 
 ing. 
 
 " Dear me, is that all? And the Lady 
 of the Aroostook went half around the 
 world!" 
 
 " The barley sugar is to be bought at 
 the baker's; shall I stop?" asked the 
 driver. 
 
 " On no account," cried the Countess, 
 " I hate barley sugar." 
 1 60
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 As they passed beneath a long white 
 wall she showed Achille the tops of 
 trees that shaded the cool green alley 
 where the Saints stood, the figure on 
 the chapel roof that was better than a 
 lightning rod, and the window from 
 which she had watched the haymakers 
 during the hour of private meditation. 
 
 "I do believe," she cried, "that Sister 
 Marie-Joseph is still trying to make that 
 wretched little crocus grow in a broken 
 tooth mug." It seemed to her that she 
 had been away a year. 
 
 " Dear me, he is going to stop!" she 
 whispered, a moment later, clutching her 
 companion's arm, " please don't let 
 him." 
 
 " I cannot pass the Post Office," pro 
 tested the driver who had overheard, 
 " and besides there appears to be a lady 
 who wishes to get on , . . Whoa, my 
 children! ; . . Mount here, Madame, 
 it is the only place." 
 161
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " You can take her on your way 
 back," suggested the Countess hurriedly, 
 but the next instant she had sprung 
 from her seat, and seemingly without 
 aid of the steps, alighted on the road 
 just as the veiled head of a nun arose 
 upon the other side. 
 
 " Don't wait for us," gasped Achille, 
 as he made haste to follow, " this is 
 where we live! " 
 
 " Well! " exclaimed the Countess, still 
 panting, as, from a distance, they 
 watched the omnibus drive away, "that 
 is what I call a narrow escape!" 
 
 "I suppose you wished to avoid the 
 nun," reflected Achille, doubtfully, "but 
 she seemed to have a gentle face." 
 
 " You don't know Sister Marie- 
 Joseph," replied the Countess, adding, 
 "Oh! was it not fortunate that I saw 
 her in time to get off." 
 
 " Very," assented the other, warmly, 
 as he looked about him, comprehending 
 162
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 in a glance the ten small houses of the 
 hamlet. " Very fortunate indeed! " 
 
 They moved aimlessly and in silence 
 beside the white wall, and for a time the 
 young man's brow was wrinkled in 
 perplexity, then, glancing at his com 
 panion, he saw that there were tears in 
 her eyes, and asked humbly if he had 
 said anything to offend her. 
 
 " No," she answered, mournfully, "but 
 I know exactly what you are think 
 ing." 
 
 " I was thinking," he protested, " of 
 nothing more terrible than that those 
 distant trees must mark the course of 
 the little river Loup, and that by the 
 path along the shore my house is not 
 two kilometers from St. Ives. I have 
 often heard the chapel bell." 
 
 "I knew it!" cried the Countess, 
 
 wiping her eyes, " you were saying to 
 
 yourself that if I would only walk up to 
 
 the convent gate and knock, you could 
 
 163
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 go home in peace and be rid of me 
 forever." 
 
 "Mademoiselle! ..." 
 
 " Yes," she went on, her voice broken 
 with suppressed sobs, " you wish me to 
 go back to prison, and that is why you 
 have brought me here instead of for 
 warding me to Paris, when you could, 
 by grande vitesse." 
 
 " Mademoiselle," replied the young 
 man, proudly, " I have sworn not to 
 leave you until you are in the wigwam 
 of your people." 
 
 To this she made no answer, but, 
 presently, when they came to a lane at 
 the end of the wall, she said, laughing: 
 
 "I am going to take one peep at 
 them through the keyhole of the little 
 gate; you wait here and call me if any 
 one should be coming." 
 
 So saying she ran a few steps along 
 the lane, and as she bent to carry out 
 her purpose he turned again to the 
 164
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 highway; but, before a minute of the 
 watch had passed, he fancied that he 
 heard a cry and wheeled about. The 
 Countess had vanished. 
 
 Achille sprang to the gate and shook 
 it violently, but without result. Then, 
 looking through the keyhole, he saw 
 figures in the distance moving toward 
 the convent in obedience to the sum 
 mons of a bell. 
 
 Refraining from further demonstra 
 tion (for had the Countess been 
 entrapped it was improbable that she 
 should still be within hearing), Achille 
 leaned against the wall and tried to 
 decide how others, more experienced 
 than himself, would set about a rescue, 
 involuntarily turning in his perplexity 
 less to Uncas than to Pierre Rabot. 
 
 "Adieu, je pars! 
 
 Plus de retard! 
 
 Mais j'ai 1'espoir 
 
 De vous revoir! . . . 
 165
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 So sang the unsympathetic voice of a 
 person who now approached from the 
 end of the lane. From his dress and 
 the burden in his arms, Achille divined 
 at once that he was the baker, and then, 
 recalling what he had heard of that in 
 dividual's character and history, he 
 determined to make good use of the 
 knowledge. 
 
 " What do you mean by raising such 
 a row outside of our wall ?" he demanded 
 sternly, standing erect as a sentinel be 
 fore the gate. 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon!" replied the 
 baker, taken aback, " I thought that 
 they had all gone in it is nearly six 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Ah, you remembered that! Then 
 why are you so late with the bread ?" It 
 seemed safe to assume that the baker 
 was late. 
 
 "The oven was slow to-day on 
 account of the east wind," replied the 
 
 166
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 man, apologetically, adding, with less 
 humility, " Who are you anyway? " 
 
 "That you will find out soon enough. 
 Give me the bread, and let me tell you 
 one thing we are not going to have 
 any more note-carrying and bicycle- 
 renting here." 
 
 " Ah! " sneered the baker, " so you are 
 the porterthey have been threateningto 
 get! Well, I suppose that we shall have 
 to divide profits." 
 
 " That we shall see later," replied 
 Achille, with dignity, "meanwhile you 
 had better hand over that key." 
 
 " Oh, as to that ..." 
 
 " As to that, my brother is a baker in 
 Greslin." 
 
 "Come now," protested the trades 
 man as he produced the key, " fair 
 play! What do you say to one- 
 third?" 
 
 " One-half and all tips my own," 
 replied the porter with determination 
 167
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 as he opened the gate, " Good eve 
 ning." 
 
 The garden appeared deserted to 
 Achille as, long loaves under each arm 
 and a large brioche carried carefully in 
 both hands, he advanced with stealthy 
 steps amid the sweet smelling shrub 
 bery, but in the Alley of the Saints he 
 came upon two figures in whispered 
 consultation the Baroness de Brazos 
 and, to his great relief, the Countess! 
 
 " Ah," said the elder lady, scarcely 
 looking at him, " the baker has a new 
 boy. Just tell your master, ' no rolls 
 this evening/ he will understand," 
 but the Countess clasped her hands and 
 gave a cry of pleasure. 
 
 " I am so fond of brioche!" she said 
 in explanation. 
 
 For an instant their eyes met. 
 
 "Oh, save me!" she said tragically, 
 "save me a great big piece!" Then 
 turning to her companion she remarked 
 1 68
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 audibly: "When will these stupid peo 
 ple learn to take the right hand path 
 to the kitchen! " 
 
 The convent cook hummed snatches 
 of the Marseillaise as with a fork he 
 prodded fancied foes of freedom boil 
 ing in a pot before him. 
 
 "Well, my friend," he observed 
 across his shoulder, " you grow later 
 every day, but soon the breakfast bread 
 will come in time for dinner and then 
 we shall be all right again." 
 
 "My uncle said that the oven ," be 
 gan Achille, but at the sound of a strange 
 voice the other turned and regarded 
 him with unconcealed suspicion. 
 
 " I don't suppose that you have heard 
 the news," went on the baker's relative 
 laying down the bread " the stage 
 driver has just brought it." 
 
 " What news? " demanded the cook. 
 
 "Why, that the Emperor William 
 has abdicated! " 
 
 169
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Hurrah! " cried the patriot, waving 
 his fork. " There will be a revolu 
 tion!" 
 
 " That's what I say," assented Achille, 
 amiably adding details of the great 
 event with such rapidity that the other 
 poured out a brimming glass of cider 
 to moisten his throat. 
 
 " How do you like being chef in a 
 nunnery?" inquired Achille when the 
 enthusiasm had somewhat abated. 
 
 "Bah!" cried the other. "It's a 
 mole's life! Were it not that I should 
 hate to see the institution closed I too 
 would abdicate." 
 
 "Of course," faltered Achille, "a 
 great deal depends on you." 
 
 " Everything," replied the chef im 
 pressively. " You see our boarders are 
 our main reliance. What brings them? 
 our piety? There is as good elsewhere. 
 What keeps them? our wall? A small 
 matter to women, my boy. Ah, they 
 170
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 are cute, these fuzzy heads. They 
 know that nowhere can be found such 
 lapin en casserole, such tripes a la mode 
 de Caen. Goodness!" The cook had 
 opened the shutter of the buttery hutch 
 on a crack, and peered into the adjoin 
 ing room. "They are all at table and 
 the soup is still in the pot! " 
 
 " Can't I do something?" cried 
 Achille, jumping up with alacrity. 
 
 " Yes, take in that bread like a good 
 fellow." 
 
 "Anything to oblige!" 
 
 " It's not the Sisters," went on the 
 cook, reassuringly, " they had gruel at 
 five and are now listening to a discourse 
 from the bishop. Here, before you 
 show yourself put on an apron and that 
 cap; now you look less like a plowboy. 
 Thank heaven, Sister Marie-Joseph is 
 away!" 
 
 Achille, assisted by a push of encour 
 agement, burst suddenly into a low 
 
 I 71
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 arched room where a dozen ladies sat 
 demurely about a long table, while 
 from a high seat by the window a pale 
 young nun read aloud the Life of Saint 
 Elizabeth. The Baroness de Brazos 
 occupied the place of honor and on her 
 right the Countess made a little signal 
 with her napkin. 
 
 " ' Her husband was a coarse and bru 
 tal nature, and altogether incapable of 
 appreciating her delicacy of sentiment 
 and feeling/ " read the Sister, and 
 thereupon several of the ladies ex 
 changed sympathetic glances. 
 
 Achille contrived to touch the Count 
 ess's hand with the end of a long loaf 
 and returned to the kitchen. 
 
 " Give me the soup! " he cried exult 
 antly. 
 
 "Good for you! " exclaimed the cook. 
 " I wish I had a butler to help me every 
 day. Careful now, and be sure that 
 each one gets a carrot." 
 172
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "What kind of soup is this?" asked 
 the Countess when her turn came. 
 
 "We call it "Garden Gate" Madame," 
 whispered Achille. 
 
 As he helped her to the roast he 
 said: 
 
 " The outside is the best." 
 
 "Are you the new waiter?" she 
 asked innocently. 
 
 " No, Madame, but / shall wait this 
 evening" 
 
 They did not speak again until the 
 coffee appeared and then he asked how 
 many lumps she took. 
 
 " About eight, I think," she answered 
 absently, then laughing, she said that 
 she had been thinking of something 
 else. 
 
 " ' And at the touch of the angel,' " 
 read the Sister, " 'behold the bread was 
 changed to roses. . .' " 
 
 " Is it not a sweet story! " sighed all 
 the ladies. 
 
 173
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "You are a good fellow!" said the 
 chef to Achille for the twentieth time 
 as they dined together. " Come fill 
 your glass. Here's death to all tyrants! 
 Lord! here comes the Mother Superior. 
 Run for your life!" 
 
 So saying the apostle of liberty 
 dropped upon all fours and crawled be 
 neath the table, while Achille, not 
 knowing what else to do, caught up 
 a dish cloth and began polishing a cop 
 per pan. 
 
 " Come at once to the library! " The 
 summons from the doorway was low 
 but firm. " Come at once, do you un 
 derstand! " 
 
 Conscious of guilt, Achille made no 
 remonstrance, and determining to 
 throw himself upon the mercy of the 
 worthy woman at the first opportunity, 
 he followed meekly. As he went he 
 heard the labored breathing of the 
 cook. 
 
 174
 
 He commenced polishing a pan.
 
 X 
 
 The silence was profound in the 
 refectory where all the ladies stood in 
 respect for the good abbess as she 
 passed, and Achille glanced furtively 
 about, hoping to give the Countess some 
 mute assurance of his discretion; but 
 he could not find her in the group, and 
 began to fear that, ignorant of his fate, 
 she might find herself unprotected be 
 yond the walls. 
 
 The Mother moved rapidly, and they 
 now traversed a gloomy corridor which 
 ended iii a large apartment dimly 
 lighted by stained glass windows, and 
 filled with book shelves. 
 
 " And now," said the Abbess sadly, 
 as they paused in the shadow of a pil 
 lar, " what have you to say for your 
 self?"
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Nothing, Madame," murmured 
 Achille truthfully, and the lady con 
 tinued: 
 
 " My first impulse was to banish you 
 forever." 
 
 Achille was about to reply that such 
 an arrangement would have been mutu 
 ally satisfactory, but he controlled him 
 self. 
 
 " To think! " went on the Mother Su 
 perior, clasping her white hands, " that 
 you should have forgotten Friday three 
 times in one month! " 
 
 "Ah! " gasped the culprit, seeing light. 
 
 " Mutton!" sighed the Mother, " roast 
 mutton!" 
 
 " Veal, Madame," pleaded the sinner 
 softly. 
 
 41 1 do not turn you away, because a 
 person of your incompetence would 
 surely starve in the uncharitable world. 
 I shall give you one more chance. The 
 Bishop has graciously consented to ad- 
 176
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 monish you severely, and I trust that he 
 may get some sense into your stupid 
 head. Wait here! " 
 
 As the stout door closed Achille 
 heard the bolt drawn, and realized that 
 he was a captive. 
 
 Of course he must meet the Bishop 
 as man to man, but whether one man 
 should be the cook, the baker, Pierre 
 Rabot or himself was a difficult ques 
 tion, for each character in turn seemed 
 the one least likely to meet the prelate's 
 approbation. 
 
 His reflections were cut short by the 
 grating of the lock, followed by the ap 
 pearance of a veiled nun who beckoned 
 in silence. 
 
 "Yes, Madame," murmured Achille 
 dejectedly, and once more he entered 
 the corridor, rehearsing as he went: 
 " My Lord, I am a baker." " My Lord, 
 I am a poor artisan." " My Lord, I 
 am" 
 
 177
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " This way if you please." 
 
 Straight through the great front door 
 they passed, and in another moment 
 Achille stood blinking in the light of 
 day, with the free fields spread out be 
 fore him, but his guide did not allow 
 him to stop till they had turned an 
 angle in the convent wall. Then as 
 she threw back her veil, he heard a 
 familiar laugh, and a welcome voice 
 exclaimed: 
 
 " Well, Monsieur Vifour, what do you 
 think of me now?" 
 
 " I thought at first," he answered, 
 restraining an impulse toward untimely 
 demonstration, " that you were the di 
 rectress of the Torture Chamber." 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad I frightened you!" 
 she cried with charming frankness. 
 "I walked right past them all; this is 
 the second best habit of Sister Marie- 
 Joseph." 
 
 " I am sure that it is very becoming," 
 178
 
 There's that cheeky po>te>- '.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 he remarked, admiringly, " but the other 
 dress was perhaps a trifle less notice 
 able." 
 
 " Indeed," replied the lady tossing 
 her head, "if you fancy yourself incon 
 spicuous in that white apron and cap, 
 you are very much mistaken." 
 
 " I had forgotten!" gasped Achille/'I 
 was planning, if we ever got out, to 
 reach Greslin and there take the land 
 lady of the Golden Cat into our confi 
 dence, but now " 
 
 " It would have been perfect, but I 
 am afraid that we must think of some 
 thing else!" sighed the Countess. 
 
 " Good evening, my Sister," croaked 
 the voice of an old woman close at 
 hand. She had come up unobserved, 
 and now stood dropping courtesies that 
 threatened to dislodge the basket ba 
 lanced on her head. 
 
 " Good evening," replied the Countess 
 graciously. "What have you there?" 
 179
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Cepes, my Sister! I have been 
 gathering them in the wood." 
 
 11 How do you sell them ?" 
 
 " Oh, I do not expect to sell them, 
 they are for my rabbits." 
 
 " But I want to buy. Will ten francs 
 be enough ?" 
 
 " Too much, my lady." 
 
 " And five more for the basket ?" 
 
 " Heaven bless you, good Sister!" 
 
 " Auguste!" said the Countess loftily, 
 " just pay this good woman." 
 
 " What in the world are you going to 
 do with the things ? " demanded Achille 
 when the peasant had gone rejoicing 
 on her way. 
 
 " Oh, you shall see. Put the basket 
 on your head and follow me, just as you 
 did the Mother." 
 
 " But you have no idea how heavy 
 they are." 
 
 " So much the better. Keep just five 
 paces behind." 
 
 1 80
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 As they passed along the village 
 street the townsfolk before the doors 
 spoke approvingly of the errand of 
 mercy, and greeted the Sister with many 
 benedictions. 
 
 " There is that cheeky porter ! " re 
 marked the baker, " I wonder how he 
 likes his situation now." 
 
 "I do not think that we shall need 
 the cepes any more," said the Countess 
 when the last house was far behind 
 " but wasn't it fun ? " 
 
 " Jolly! " replied Achille. " I believe 
 there is a permanent dent in my skull. 
 And now, Mademoiselle," he added, 
 deferentially, " I have a plan that I 
 think will solve all our difficulties." 
 
 "Excellent!" she exclaimed, "that 
 is just what we want." 
 
 He led the way across the fields 
 
 toward the little river Loup, and then 
 
 along the path beneath the trees. 
 
 Sometimes she loitered to put corn 
 
 181
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 flowers in her girdle, or poppies in the 
 close drawn convent cap. When in the 
 distance a glimpse of blue slate stood 
 against the blue sky, he said softly 
 
 " There yonder is the Chateau," and 
 she, for no reason, blushed. 
 
 Then she told him how her former 
 roommate had been waiting to way 
 lay the baker at the gate, and how the 
 Baroness's noisy joy had forced her to 
 avoid a scene by going in, and he told 
 of the Emperor's abdication, and they 
 discussed the Bishop and the veal, and 
 the surprise awaiting Sister Marie- 
 Joseph 
 
 " Really," she remarked, "we are 
 getting to be as untruthful as Saint 
 Elizabeth." 
 
 After an hour, walking slowly, they 
 came to the washing-shed under the 
 willow tree, and there he threw open 
 the door with an exaggerated show of 
 welcome. 
 
 182
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " What place is this ?" she asked as 
 she entered laughing. 
 
 " This," he answered gaily, " is the 
 original Inn of the Silver Moon. You 
 will find it perfectly appointed! See 
 we have both soap and Javelle water. 
 Will Mademoiselle sit upon the washing 
 box or the linen barrow? Both are de 
 lightfully comfortable! " 
 
 The Countess knelt down at the 
 water's edge and dipped her handker 
 chief in the stream and beat it with the 
 wooden paddle after the manner of 
 laundresses, and when she grew tired of 
 the play they looked together from the 
 crack of the door, and he showed her 
 the gables of the house and told her 
 which wing had been built by his father, 
 and which by his grandfather, the colo 
 nel of Napoleon. Once when there was 
 a sound of barking in the garden he 
 said 
 
 "Jules is feeding the dogs. Listen 
 183
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 to the great Brutus! That is Boy 
 grumbling at his biscuit, and asking for 
 meat like the others. Toto, the rascal, 
 is too busy eating to say a word." 
 
 As the long June twilight waned they 
 spoke of books they had read, and po 
 etry and music, and of days at school, 
 but of the future not a word. She did 
 not ask why they waited there, and for 
 the time it was enough for him to know 
 that it was his ground beneath her feet, 
 that the linen barrow on which she sat 
 was his linen barrow. Bye and bye 
 there were stars in the water, the frogs 
 croaked from the pool behind the wil 
 lows, and they heard the noise of Jules 
 locking the gate, and watched the 
 kitchen lights go out to reappear in the 
 windows of the servants' hall; then 
 Achille said 
 
 " You will not be afraid, Mademoi 
 selle, if I leave you for a half an 
 hour?" 
 
 184
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " No," she answered, " I shall not be 
 afraid." 
 
 " You do not ask me what I am going 
 to do." 
 
 " Because I know that it is something 
 for me." 
 
 Achille jingled a bunch of keys in the 
 dark 
 
 "I am going," he said, " to burglarize 
 my own house." 
 
 " I do not think," said she, " that that 
 could be used against you at the trial." 
 
 '85
 
 XI 
 
 During the evening spent by the 
 master with the Countess in the washing- 
 shed, the butler of the Chateau Vifour, 
 seated in his armchair in the servants' 
 hall, read the Petit Journal from feuille- 
 ton to medical advertisements, while 
 the cook on the other side of the lamp 
 entertained himself with the columns of 
 a more highly-seasoned publication. 
 At the end of the table Jules played 
 solitaire. 
 
 "Where are the others?" asked the 
 butler, looking up suddenly after a long 
 silence. 
 
 "The maids are in the housekeeper's 
 room admiring some trumpery that 
 Madame Jane has received from Paris." 
 
 "Parbleu! the old lady grows vainer 
 187
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 every day. It is unfortunate for her 
 purse that she still retains her figure. 
 Where is Paul?" 
 
 " He has gone to the saddler's for 
 Boy's collar." 
 
 11 He has gone to the wine shop to 
 gossip! When the master returns I will 
 report him." 
 
 "Ah! when he returns! Two dinners 
 and a breakfast! I never made a better 
 soufflet." 
 
 "It was excellent," assented Jules . . . 
 " Behold Madame Jane and the foolish 
 virgins." 
 
 As the ladies entered the cook re 
 marked cynically, " Women are fortu 
 nate; they are able to forget all trouble 
 in the contemplation of a new gown." 
 
 " I have a presentiment that I shall 
 never wear it," sighed Madame Jane, 
 picking up her knitting. 
 
 " If you had only ordered it black," 
 sighed the under housemaid, picking up 
 1 88
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 the cat. " I suppose that nothing has 
 been heard of Monsieur?" 
 
 " Monsieur will not return to-night," 
 said the butler. " Let us not forget 
 to remember Monsieur in our prayers. 
 Jules, put out the pug." 
 
 Presently Paul came in and greeted 
 the company with an air of unconcern 
 which was clearly affected. It was evi 
 dent that he had weighty matters on 
 his mind, and that in his anxiety to 
 communicate them he had been walking 
 rapidly. 
 
 "Oh la, la, it is warm!" he panted, 
 sinking into a chair, then continuing, 
 
 carelessly, " Where is the Journal 
 
 Ah, pardon, Monsieur le Maitre d'hotel, 
 I did not observe that you were reading 
 it." 
 
 " Did you get the collar? " demanded 
 the butler. 
 
 "The collar? Ah, yes, no it was not 
 finished." 
 
 189
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "Whom did you see in town?" asked 
 Madame Jane. 
 
 " One or two, I don't remember. I 
 was there but a moment." 
 
 " Come," said the butler, throwing 
 down his paper, "we all know that you 
 have been gossiping. It was not dig 
 nified for one of us, but since you 
 have demeaned yourself to do it, 
 you may as well tell us what you have 
 heard."' 
 
 " If some of us did not have ears, no 
 body would know anything," remarked 
 the under housemaid. 
 
 " Out with it before it chokes you," 
 put in the cook. 
 
 " Perhaps," began Paul, unable to 
 contain himself longer, " perhaps it 
 would interest you to know that the 
 master has been seen." 
 
 "Where? How? When?" the others 
 cried in chorus. 
 
 " Oh, at several places and several 
 190
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 times. First, at the buvette near the 
 octoir " 
 
 "Never there?!!" 
 
 " Yes, there, and in the company of 
 two ladies; very chic; very blonde, 
 and dressed like boys with pretty 
 stockings '' 
 
 " Never mind the details," interrupted 
 Madame Jane. 
 
 " Monsieur was amusing himself," 
 chuckled the cook, " what then?" 
 
 "One of the two punctured her 
 bicycle, and Monsieur took them to the 
 Pig Market on foot, afterwards he 
 returned and repaired the leak himself 
 and rode away." 
 
 " Monsieur does not know how to 
 ride a bicycle! " exclaimed the butler. 
 
 " He could not repair a lead pencil," 
 said Jules. 
 
 " We do not know what he can do," 
 resumed Paul. "There can be no 
 doubt that it was he. He wore the 
 191
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 white straw hat and gray suit that he 
 had on when I saw him in the garden, 
 the landlord recognized him at once." 
 
 "What did he do then?" 
 
 " That you may well ask. What did 
 he not do? He went mad! He dressed 
 himself like a peasant, and told people 
 he was a jeweler. He ate an omelet on 
 the top of a ladder, and finally he 
 bought two red pillows and drove off in 
 a circus wagon with one of the blondes. 
 In the end, the Devil came out of the 
 woods with a scythe and carried them 
 both away, and the lad who drove them 
 barely escaped with his life. What do 
 you think of that?" 
 
 " I think that you have been drink 
 ing," said the butler. 
 
 " You do not suppose that he could 
 hear all that without treating once or 
 twice," remarked the cook. 
 
 " You are a fool and they have been 
 making fun of you," said the butler. 
 192
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " The story seems to me quite prob 
 able," the under housemaid whispered. 
 
 "Hark!" cried Madame Jane, "I 
 thought I heard a footstep overhead." 
 
 "The Saints preserve us! what can it 
 be?" gasped the laundress. 
 
 "Silence! it is nothing," said the but 
 ler calmly. 
 
 " What is that at the front door?" 
 
 " It is Brutus scratching to get in." 
 
 " He never did that before." 
 
 " Never! " 
 
 " Holy Saints! " 
 
 " I have left my wardrobe unlocked." 
 
 " There is the step again! " 
 
 " Yes, I heard it then." 
 
 " Perhaps it is a rat." 
 
 " It is too loud for a rat." 
 
 " Paul, open the door! " 
 
 " Sacre Bleu! Open it yourself." 
 
 " Holy Saints! " 
 
 " The cat has stopped purring." 
 
 " There it is again! " 
 193
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 "Jules," said the butler, rising and 
 buttoning his coat, " Jules, come with 
 me. Paul, follow us." 
 
 "And leave the women alone? Not 
 I." 
 
 " Please do not leave us alone," 
 sobbed the under housemaid. 
 
 Arming themselves with such offen 
 sive weapons as the kitchen could sup 
 ply, the butler and Jules took each a 
 candle and went cautiously into the 
 darkness of the house, while Paul stood 
 bravely in the doorway and followed 
 only with his ears. 
 
 Stealthily they crept from room to 
 room, pausing often to note the now 
 unmistakable movements of the myste 
 rious invader, and so by slow degrees 
 they mounted to the second story, keep 
 ing always at a prudent distance, but 
 following relentlessly upon his track. 
 After a little they became aware that 
 the visitor had discovered the pursuit 
 194
 
 Surrender or die!
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 and was retreating, and they advanced 
 more boldly, pressing him closer, till at 
 last they drove him for refuge to the 
 bathroom, where, checked by the click 
 ing of a key, they paused for consulta 
 tion. 
 
 "We have trapped him!" cried Jules 
 exultantly. " Let us leave him there 
 till morning." 
 
 " Never," replied the butler who was 
 a man of much stronger character, and 
 tapping on the panel he cried out: 
 " Surrender, or I will shoot." 
 
 " You can't shoot with a basting 
 spoon," whispered Jules. 
 
 "Surrender or die!" repeated the 
 butler loudly. 
 
 At the second summons the door 
 swung slowly open and they beheld the 
 master Achille Vifour himself, a can 
 dle in his hand. His hair was dishev 
 elled, his face was ashen pale, and he 
 was dressed in his pink silk pajamas.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 The pursuers turned and fled without 
 a word. As they re-entered the hall, 
 Jules well in the lead, Paul closed the 
 door and drew the bolt, and the serv 
 ants looked in each ethers' faces in 
 awful silence. . . 
 
 " Without doubt," said the butler sol 
 emnly, "something terrible has hap 
 pened." 
 * * * * # * 
 
 In the morning it was discovered that 
 the thing that had been seen was not 
 the wraith of Monsieur, but the clever 
 disguise of a burglar who had plun 
 dered the house. In the master's room 
 the safe stood open, and the master's 
 closets had been ransacked; his English 
 portmanteau had gone, his hat box and 
 his jewel case. Not content with this 
 rich booty, the villain had entered the 
 housekeeper's room and helped himself 
 to the choicest treasures of Madame 
 Jane's wardrobe; her new gown from 
 196
 
 They entered a fiacre.
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 Paris; her hat with parrot feathers, and 
 her russet boots. 
 
 From the boat house the punt was 
 missing, and it was surmised that the 
 thief had poled his way by star light 
 along the reedy reaches of the little 
 river Loup, but at the railway station it 
 was learned that only two passengers 
 had taken the midnight express, a lady 
 who was dressed like a Parisienne and 
 a gentleman who looked English, and 
 had a cold that required close atten 
 tion; only the lady spoke French. 
 
 " Doubtless Americans," remarked 
 
 the mayor. 
 
 ****** 
 
 In the morning a well-dressed gentle 
 man, carrying an English portmanteau, 
 and accompanied by a lady with a par 
 rot in her hat, passed from the portals 
 of the Gare St. Lazare and entered a 
 fiacre. 
 
 " Allez, cocher," said the gentleman. 
 197
 
 The Inn of the Silver Moon 
 
 " Bien, Monsieur." 
 
 " And now Mademoiselle," said the 
 gentleman, " I must ask you a question 
 that until this moment would have been 
 impertinent. Where do you live?" 
 
 "At the house of the Marquise de 
 Banville." 
 
 " The Marquise de Banville! . . . 
 she is . . she is . . ." 
 
 "The guardian of Gabrielle de Belle 
 Isle your affianced bride!" 
 
 " Never, Mademoiselle! By my life 
 there can be but one ! " 
 
 "Monsieur," said the lady softly, 
 " there need be but one I am Gabrielle 
 de Belle Isle." 
 
 THE END 
 
 198
 
 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLBY 
 AND SONS COMPANY AT THE 
 LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 y-y . / 

 
 000 040 275