y
niece? Now she is walking at a foot-pace like a gendarme on patrol in
the Paris streets. One might fancy she wanted to outflank that worthy
man, who looks to me like an author dreaming over his poetry, for he
has, I think, a notebook in his hand. My word, I am a great simpleton!
Is not that the very young man we are in search of!"

At this idea the old admiral moderated his horse's pace so as to follow
his niece without making any noise. He had played too many pranks in the
years 1771 and soon after, a time of our history when gallantry was held
in honor, not to guess at once that by the merest chance Emilie had met
the Unknown of the Sceaux gardens. In spite of the film which age had
drawn over his gray eyes, the Comte de Kergarouet could recognize the
signs of extreme agitation in his niece, under the unmoved expression
she tried to give to her features. The girl's piercing eyes were fixed
in a sort of dull amazement on the stranger, who quietly walked on in
front of her.

"Ay, that's it," thought the sailor. "She is following him as a pirate
follows a merchantman. Then, when she has lost sight of him, she will be
in despair at not knowing who it is she is in love with, and whether he
is a marquis or a shopkeeper. Really these young heads need an old fogy
like me always by their side..."

He unexpectedly spurred his horse in such a way as to make his niece's
bolt, and rode so hastily between her and the young man on foot that
he obliged him to fall back on to the grassy bank which rose from the
roadside. Then, abruptly drawing up, the Count exclaimed:

"Couldn't you get out of the way?"

"I beg your pardon, monsieur. But I did not know that it lay with me to
apologize to you because you almost rode me down."

"There, enough of that, my good fellow!" replied the sailor harshly, in
a sneering tone that was nothing less than insulting. At the same time
the Count raised his hunting-crop as if to strike his horse, and touched
the young fellow's shoulder, saying, "A liberal citizen is a reasoner;
every reasoner should be prudent."

The young man went up the bankside as he heard the sarcasm; then he
crossed his arms, and said in an excited tone of voice, "I cannot
suppose, monsieur, as I look at your white hairs, that you still amuse
yourself by provoking duels----"

"White hairs!" cried the sailor, interrupting him. "You lie in your
throat. They are only gray."

A quarrel thus begun had in a few seconds become