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On the morning of the twenty-ninth, Mr. Fairbank left us on а journey. Later in the day, to my unspeakable disgust, I found that I had not done with the Englishman yet. In Mr. Fairbank’s absence, Mrs. Fairbank took an incomprehensible interest in the question of my delirious fellow servant’s repose at night. Again, one or the other of us was to watch at his bedside, and report it, if anything happened. Expecting my fair friend to supper, it was necessary to make sure that the other servants at the stables would be safe in their beds that night. Accordingly, I volunteered once more to be the man who kept watch. Mrs. Fairbank complimented me on my humanity. I possess great command over my feelings. I accepted the compliment without а blush.

Twice, after nightfall, my mistress and the doctor (the last staying in the house in Mr. Fairbank’s absence) came to make inquiries. Once before the arrival of my fair friend – and once after. On the second occasion (my apartment being next door to the Englishman’s) I was obliged to hide my charming guest in the harness room. She consented, with angelic resignation, to immolate her dignity to the servile necessities of my position. А more amiable woman (so far) I never met with!

After the second visit I was left free. It was then close on midnight. Up to that time there was nothing in the behavior of the mad Englishman to reward Mrs. Fairbank and the doctor for presenting themselves at his bedside. He lay half awake, half asleep, with an odd wondering kind of look in his face. My mistress at parting warned me to be particularly watchful of him toward two in the morning. The doctor (in case anything happened) left me а large hand bell to ring, which could easily be heard at the house.

Restored to the society of my fair friend, I spread the supper table. А pâté, а sausage, and а few bottles of generous Moselle wine, composed our simple meal. When persons adore each other, the intoxicating illusion of Love transforms the simplest meal into а banquet. With immeasurable capacities for enjoyment, we sat down to table. At the very moment when I placed my fascinating companion in а chair, the infamous Englishman in the next room took that occasion, of all others, to become restless and noisy once more. He struck with his stick on the floor; he cried out, in а delirious access of terror, ‘Rigobert! Rigobert!’

The sound of that lamentable voice, suddenly assailing our ears, terrified my fair friend. She lost all her charming color in an instant. ‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who is that in the next room?’

‘A mad Englishman.’

‘An Englishman?’

‘Compose yourself, my angel. I will quiet him.’

The lamentable voice called out on me again, ‘Rigobert! Rigobert!’

My fair friend caught me by the arm. ‘Who is he?’ she cried. ‘What is his name?’

Something in her face struck me as she put that question. А spasm of jealousy shook me to the soul. ‘You know him?’ I said.

‘His name!’ she vehemently repeated; ‘his name!’

‘Francis,’ I answered.