"Ah, that is a good joke!" cried Joliet, breaking into an explosion of
laughter and clapping me pleasantly on the shoulder--an action which
caused a slight frown on the part of Charles. "You always would have
your jest, Monsieur the American! Tease me and scare me as much as
you like: I like these hoaxes better before a wedding than after.
Hold that," he added, extending his hand as if it were a piece of
merchandise.

I "held" it, and he went on, dwelling slowly on his words: "If you are
at Henri Fortnoye's wedding you will be at Francine Joliet's also, for
both of these persons are to be married at one church."

"Impossible!" I exclaimed, dropping the hand and stepping back.

"What! again?" said Joliet, his manly face visibly darkening. "Droll!
and creditable! and impossible! Why impossible?" Then he dropped his
head and looked angrily at the floor. "Ah, yes, even you," he said,
his eyes still fixed on the boards, "believed that a French girl,
trained as French girls are trained, would flirt and expose herself to
remark; and all on account of such a man as your compatriot, the other
American! Well! well! you ought to know your countrymen best."

"I know of no harm," I interposed hastily. "I should always have
thought Kraaniff hard to swallow as a mere matter of taste. I can but
recollect, Father Joliet," I went on more seriously, "that the last
time I met you you begged me not to talk of Francine if I would not
break your heart. I have to add to this the news brought me from
Heidelberg, that this Kraaniff was a serpent who had fascinated some
young girl for an approaching meal.--How dare you, Charles," I cried