'I shall have something to say to you then, of which that will be part.' He looked at me in great astonishment, and with a little suspicion.
But I called for a light, and by going at once to bed, cut short his questions.

In the morning we did not meet until it was time to start.
Those who know the south road to Agen, and how the vineyards rise in terraces north of the town, one level of red earth above another, green in summer, but in late autumn bare and stony, may remember a particular place where the road, two leagues from the town, runs up a steep hill.
At the top of the hill four roads meet; and there, plain to be seen against the sky, is a finger-post indicating which way leads to Bordeaux, and which to old tiled Montauban, and which to Perigueux.
This hill had impressed me greatly on my journey south; perhaps because I had enjoyed from it my first extended view of the Garonne Valley, and had there felt myself on the verge of the south country where my mission lay.

It had taken root in my memory, so that I had come to look upon its bare rounded head, with the guide-post and the four roads, as the first outpost of Paris, as the first sign of return to the old life.
Now for two days I had been looking forward to seeing it again, That long stretch of road would do admirably for something I had in my mind.

That sign-post, with the roads pointing north, south, east, and west--could there be a better place for meetings and partings?
We came to the bottom of the ascent about an hour before noon, M.de Cocheforet, Mademoiselle, and I.We had reversed the order of yesterday, and I rode ahead; they came after at their leisure.

Now, at the foot of the hill I stopped, and letting Mademoiselle pass on, detained M.de Cocheforet by a gesture.
'Pardon me, one moment,' I said.