pursuit of his young master.

Gilbert ran after them. When he had overtaken them, Stephane had
dismounted, and stood with clenched fists before a child, who,
quite out of breath from running, had thrown himself exhausted at
the foot of a tree. In running he had torn many holes in his San-
benito, and he was looking with mournful eyes at these rents, and
replied only in monosyllables to all of Stephane's threats.

"You are at my mercy," said the young man to him at last. "I will
forgive you if you ask my pardon on your knees."

"I won't do it," replied the child, getting up. "I have no pardon
to ask. You struck me with your whip, and I swore to pay you for
it. I'm a good shot. I sighted your cap and I was sure I'd hit
it. That makes you mad, and now we're even. But I'll promise not
to throw any more stones, if you'll promise not to strike me with
your whip any more."

"That is a very reasonable proposition," said Gilbert.

"I don't ask your opinion, sir," interrupted Stephane haughtily,--
then turning to Ivan: "Ivan, my dear Ivan," continued he, "in this
matter you ought to obey me. You know very well the Count does not
love me, but he does not mean to have others insult me: it is a
privilege he reserves to himself. Dismount, and make this little
rascal kneel to me and ask my pardon."

Ivan shook his head.