Then presently came one with the announcement that M. le Cure was
waiting, and in answer to that reminder that there was a ceremony
to be gone through, Charlot and his friends flung out of the house
in joyous confusion, and went their way with laughter and jest to
the little church of St. Ildefonse.

"We will follow presently - M. la Boulaye and I - Charlot," Duhamel
had said, as the sturdy bridegroom was departing. "We shall be there
to shake Madame by the hand and wish her joy of you."

When at last they were alone in the schoolmaster's room, the old
man turned to La Boulaye, the very embodiment of a note of
interrogation. The secretary told him all that had passed. He
reddened slightly when it came to speaking of his love for Mlle.
de Bellecour, but he realised that if he would have guidance he must
withhold nothing from his friend.

Duhamel's face grew dark as the young man spoke, and his eyes became
sad and very thoughtful.

"Alas!" he sighed, when La Boulaye had ended. "What shall I say to
you, my friend? The time is not yet for such as we - you and I - to
speak of love for a daughter of the Seigneurie. It is coming, I doubt
it not. All things have their climax, and France is tending swiftly
to the climax of her serfdom. Very soon we shall have the crisis,
this fire that is already smouldering, will leap into a great blaze,
that shall lick the old regime as completely from the face of history
as though it had never been. A new condition of things will spring
up, of that I am convinced. Does not history afford us many