"I know not that," he answered. "The lad is more generous than his
sire, and if I were to send him word that I have been affronted, he
might consent to meet me. For the rest, I could kill him
blindfolded," he added, with a shrug.

"Bloodthirsty animal!" rejoined Duhamel. "Unnatural tutor! Do you
forget that you were the boy's preceptor?"

With that Duhamel carried the argument into new fields, and showed
La Boulaye that to avenge upon the young Vicomte the insults received
at the hands of the old Marquis was hardly a worthy method of taking
vengeance. At last he won him to his way, and it was settled that on
the morrow La Boulaye should journey with him to Amiens.

"But, Caron, we are forgetting our friend Charlot and his bride," he
broke off suddenly. "Come, boy; the ceremony will be at an end by
this."

He took La Boulaye by the arm, and led him out and down the street
to the open space opposite St. Ildefonse. The wedding-party was
streaming out through the door of the little church into the warm
sunshine of that April morning. In the churchyard they formed into
a procession of happy be-ribboned and nosegayed men and women - the
young preceding, the old following, the bridal couple. Two by two
they came, and the air rang with their laughter and joyous chatter.
Then another sound arose, and if the secretary and the pedagogue
could have guessed of what that beating of hoofs was to be the
prelude, they had scarce smiled so easily as they watched the
approaching cortege.