an angry gesture struck it down among the weeds with his stick. He left
the place, and wandered on through the woods.

"Men can't control the thoughts that flit across their minds," he
muttered, as he went along, "anymore than they can direct the shadows
of the clouds that sail above them. They come and pass, and leave no
stain behind. What, then, of omens, and that wretched effigy of
death? Stuff--pshaw! Murder, indeed! I'm incapable of murder. I have
drawn my sword upon a man in fair duel; but murder! Out upon the
thought, out upon it."

He stamped upon the ground with a pang at once of fury and horror. He
walked on a little, stopped again, and folding his arms, leaned against
an ancient tree.

"Mademoiselle de Barras, _vous êtes une traîtresse_, and you shall go.
Yes, go you shall; you have deceived me, and we must part."

He said this with melancholy bitterness; and, after a pause, continued:

"I will have no other revenge. No; though, I dare say, she will care but
little for this; very little, if at all."

"And then, as to the other person," he resumed, after a pause, "it is not
the first time he has acted like a trickster. He has crossed me before,
and I will choose an opportunity to tell him my mind. I won't mince
matters with him either, and will not spare him one insulting syllable
that he deserves. He wears a sword, and so do I; if he pleases, he may
draw it; he shall have the opportunity; but, at all events, I will make
it impossible for him to prolong his disgraceful visit at my house."