happy valley.

"Monsieur Mitouflet, I am to fight to-morrow with Monsieur Vernier,"
said Gaudissart to his landlord. "I know no one here: will you be my
second?"

"Willingly," said the host.

Gaudissart had scarcely finished his dinner before Madame Fontanieu
and the assistant-mayor of Vouvray came to the Soleil d'Or and took
Mitouflet aside. They told him it would be a painful and injurious
thing to the whole canton if a violent death were the result of this
affair; they represented the pitiable distress of Madame Vernier, and
conjured him to find some way to arrange matters and save the credit
of the district.

"I take it all upon myself," said the sagacious landlord.

In the evening he went up to the traveller's room carrying pens, ink,
and paper.

"What have you got there?" asked Gaudissart.

"If you are going to fight to-morrow," answered Mitouflet, "you had
better make some settlement of your affairs; and perhaps you have
letters to write,--we all have beings who are dear to us. Writing
doesn't kill, you know. Are you a good swordsman? Would you like to
get your hand in? I have some foils."

"Yes, gladly."