"No, madame. I do not even know what has become of our man. The old
horse reared."

"Then we shall be obliged to put him into Charenton," said she, "since
we have got him."

The Colonel, who recovered the elasticity of youth to leap the haha,
in the twinkling of an eye was standing in front of Delbecq, on whom
he bestowed the two finest slaps that ever a scoundrel's cheeks
received.

"And you may add that old horses can kick!" said he.

His rage spent, the Colonel no longer felt vigorous enough to leap the
ditch. He had seen the truth in all its nakedness. The Countess'
speech and Delbecq's reply had revealed the conspiracy of which he was
to be the victim. The care taken of him was but a bait to entrap him
in a snare. That speech was like a drop of subtle poison, bringing on
in the old soldier a return of all his sufferings, physical and moral.
He came back to the summer-house through the park gate, walking slowly
like a broken man.

Then for him there was to be neither peace nor truce. From this moment
he must begin the odious warfare with this woman of which Derville had
spoken, enter on a life of litigation, feed on gall, drink every
morning of the cup of bitterness. And then--fearful thought!--where
was he to find the money needful to pay the cost of the first
proceedings? He felt such disgust of life, that if there had been any
water at hand he would have thrown himself into it; that if he had had
a pistol, he would have blown out his brains. Then he relapsed into