life
amid environments which were suited to him; a man treated by Nature as
a favorite child, for she gave him courage, self-possession, and the
political sagacity of a Cesar Borgia. But education had not bestowed
upon him that nobility of conduct and ideas without which nothing
great is possible in any walk of life. He was not regretted, because
of the perfidy with which his adversary, who was a worse man than he,
had contrived to bring him into disrepute. His death put an end to the
exploits of the Order of Idleness, to the great satisfaction of the
town of Issoudun. Philippe therefore had nothing to fear in
consequence of the duel, which seemed almost the result of divine
vengeance: its circumstances were related throughout that whole region
of country, with unanimous praise for the bravery of the two
combatants.

"But they had better both have been killed," remarked Monsieur
Mouilleron; "it would have been a good riddance for the Government."

The situation of Flore Brazier would have been very embarrassing were
it not for the condition into which she was thrown by Max's death. A
brain-fever set in, combined with a dangerous inflammation resulting
from her escapade to Vatan. If she had had her usual health, she might
have fled the house where, in the room above her, Max's room, and in
Max's bed, lay and suffered Max's murderer. She hovered between life
and death for three months, attended by Monsieur Goddet, who was also
attending Philippe.

As soon as Philippe was able to hold a pen, he wrote the following
letters:--

To Monsieur Desroches:

I have already killed the most venomous of the two reptiles; not
however without getting my own head split open by a sabre; but the
rascal struck with a dying hand. The other viper is here, and I
must come to an understanding with her, for my uncle clings to her
like the apple of his eye. I have been half afraid the girl, who
is devilishly handsome, might run away, and then my uncle would
have followed her; but an illness which seized her suddenly has
kept her in bed. If God desired to protect me, he would call her
soul to himself, now, while she is repenting of her sins.
Meantime, on my side I have, thanks to that old trump, Hochon, the
doctor of Issoudun, one named Goddet, a worthy soul who conceives
that the property of uncles ought to go to nephews rather than to
sluts.

Monsieur Hochon has some influence on a certain papa Fichet, who