matter stands, why, you will be Jacques Bonneval, and I Bartholomé La
Croissette to the end of the chapter. As for what I have done for you,
why, it's nothing! I was coming this way, at any rate, and I've given
you a lift; that's all."

"You may make light of it, if you will," said I, "but I know you have
continually run risks for me; and depend on it, I shall never forget
you. Adieu, my friend."

"Farewell, then," said he, "and take my best wishes with you. I hope you
will now slip safely out of the country, but a good piece of it remains
before you yet. Nor are your feet in good condition for walking."

"That has been provided for," said Antoine. "As soon as we get to the
waterside we shall find a boat awaiting us, which will carry us to
Bordeaux."

"But you are some way from the water.'

"Yes, but I have a cart."

We then parted, La Croissette kissing me on both cheeks with the utmost
kindness; and I turned away with Antoine. Looking round as we quitted
the court, I had my last glimpse of his tall, meagre figure, as he stood
with his hand on his hip, looking after me; and I thought how strange
and disproportionate a return his kindness to me had been for mine to
him, in lifting him up and saving him from a kicking horse on the way
to Beaucaire. The whole scene at once started up before me--our family
party in the wagon--the girls' blooming faces and gay dresses--the
crowded road--the music--the bustle. Then my thoughts flew on to what