I presented Rouletabille as a good friend of mine, but, as soon as he learnt that the young man was a journalist, he looked at me very reproachfully, excused himself, under the necessity of having to reach Epinay in twenty minutes, bowed, and whipped up his horse.

But Rouletabille had seized the bridle and, to my utter astonishment, stopped the carriage with a vigorous hand.

Then he gave utterance to a sentence which was utterly meaningless to me.
"The presbytery has lost nothing of its charm, nor the garden its brightness." The words had no sooner left the lips of Rouletabille than I saw Robert Darzac quail.

Pale as he was, he became paler.

His eyes were fixed on the young man in terror, and he immediately descended from the vehicle in an inexpressible state of agitation.
"Come!--come in!" he stammered.
Then, suddenly, and with a sort of fury, he repeated: "Let us go, monsieur." He turned up by the road he had come from the chateau, Rouletabille still retaining his hold on the horse's bridle.