The Count of Monte Cristo

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soon traversed the space of two leagues. Then he rested; he must be near
Chapelle-en-Serval, where he pretended to be going. It was not fatigue
that stayed Andrea here; it was that he might form some resolution,
adopt some plan. It would be impossible to make use of a diligence,
equally so to engage post-horses; to travel either way a passport was
necessary. It was still more impossible to remain in the department of
the Oise, one of the most open and strictly guarded in France; this was
quite out of the question, especially to a man like Andrea, perfectly
conversant with criminal matters.

He sat down by the side of the moat, buried his face in his hands and
reflected. Ten minutes after he raised his head; his resolution was
made. He threw some dust over the topcoat, which he had found time to
unhook from the ante-chamber and button over his ball costume, and going
to Chapelle-en-Serval he knocked loudly at the door of the only inn in
the place. The host opened. "My friend," said Andrea, "I was coming from
Montefontaine to Senlis, when my horse, which is a troublesome creature,