"The Marquis Martial, is it not? He is also walking before the church
with Mademoiselle Blanche de Courtornieu upon his arm. Ah! I do not
understand how people can call her pretty--a little bit of a thing,
so blond that one might suppose her hair was gray. Ah! how those two
laughed and made fun of the peasants. They say they are going to marry
each other. And even this evening there is to be a banquet at the
Chateau de Courtornieu in honor of the duke."

He had told all he knew. He paused.

"You have forgotten only one thing," said M. Lacheneur; "that is,
to tell us how your clothing happened to be torn, as if you had been
fighting."

The young farmer hesitated for a moment, then replied, somewhat
brusquely:

"I can tell you, all the same. While Chupin was preaching, I also
preached, but not in the same strain. The scoundrel reported me. So, in
crossing the square, the duke paused before me and remarked: 'So you are
an evil-disposed person?' I said no, but that I knew my rights. Then he
took me by the coat and shook me, and told me that he would cure me,
and that he would take possession of _his_ vineyard again. _Saint Dieu_!
When I felt the old rascal's hand upon me my blood boiled. I pinioned
him. Fortunately, six or seven men fell upon me, and compelled me to let
him go. But he had better make up his mind not to come prowling around
my vineyard!"

He clinched his hands, his eyes blazed ominously, his whole person