ladies no more. He struggled fiercely with his passion; he went about
dogged, silent, and sighing. Presently he devoted his leisure hours
to shooting partridges instead of ladies. And he was right; partridges
cannot shoot back; whereas beautiful women, like Cupid, are all archers
more or less, and often with one arrow from eye or lip do more execution
than they have suffered from several discharges of our small shot.

In these excursions, Edouard was generally accompanied by a thick-set
rustic called Dard, who, I believe, purposes to reveal his own character
to you, and so save me that trouble.

One fine afternoon, about four o'clock, this pair burst remorselessly
through a fence, and landed in the road opposite Bigot's Auberge; a long
low house, with "ICI ON LOGE A PIED ET A CHEVAL," written all across it
in gigantic letters. Riviere was for moving homeward, but Dard halted
and complained dismally of "the soldier's gripes." The statesman had
never heard of that complaint, so Dard explained that the VULGAR name
for it was hunger. "And only smell," said he, "the soup is just fit to
come off the fire."

Riviere smiled sadly, but consented to deign to eat a morsel in the
porch. Thereat Dard dashed wildly into the kitchen.

They dined at one little round table, each after his fashion. When Dard
could eat no more, he proceeded to drink; and to talk in proportion.
Riviere, lost in his own thoughts, attended to him as men of business do
to a babbling brook; until suddenly from the mass of twaddle broke forth
a magic word--Beaurepaire; then the languid lover pricked up his ears
and found Mr. Dard was abusing that noble family right and left. Young
Riviere inquired what ground of offence they had given HIM. "I'll tell