"It was Marie Michelin, Monseigneur," she made answer timidly. "But
it has just been changed to Marie Tardivet."

"You have just been wed, eh?"

"We are on our way from church, Monseigneur."

"C'est ca," he murmured, as if to himself, and his eyes taking such
stock of her as made Charlot burn to tear him from his horse. Then,
in a kindly, fatherly voice, he added: "My felicitations, Marie; may
you be a happy wife and a happier mother."

"Merci, Monseigneur," she murmured, with crimson cheeks, whilst
Charlot breathed once more, and from his heart gave thanks to Heaven,
believing the interview at an end. But he went too fast.

"Do you know, Marie, that you are a very comely child?" quoth the
Marquis, in tones which made the bridegroom's blood run cold.

Some in that noble company nudged one another, and one there was who
burst into a loud guffaw.

"Charlot has often told me so," she laughed, all unsuspicious.

The Marquis moved on his horse that he might bend lower. With his
forefinger he uptilted her chin, and now, as she met his glance thus
at close quarters, an unaccountable fear took possession of her, and
the colour died out of her plump cheeks.