d he, even if that convict were his own son? And Monsieur and Madame
Fontanelle looked on their daughter as they would have done on a son who
had just been released from the hulks. She was pretty and pale, tall,
slender, distinguished-looking, and she would have pleased me very much,
monsieur, but for that unfortunate affair.

"Well, when a new sub-prefect was appointed here, eighteen months ago, he
brought his private secretary with him. He was a queer sort of fellow,
who had lived in the Latin Quarter, it appears. He saw Mademoiselle
Fontanelle and fell in love with her, and when told of what occurred, he
merely said:

"'Bah! That is just a guarantee for the future, and I would rather it
should have happened before I married her than afterward. I shall live
tranquilly with that woman.'

"He paid his addresses to her, asked for her hand and married her, and
then, not being deficient in assurance, he paid wedding calls, as if
nothing had happened. Some people returned them, others did not; but, at
last, the affair began to be forgotten, and she took her proper place in
society.

"She adored her husband as if he had been a god; for, you must remember,
he had restored her to honor and to social life, had braved public
opinion, faced insults, and, in a word, performed such a courageous act
as few men would undertake, and she felt the most exalted and tender love
for him.

"When she became enceinte, and it was known, the most particular people
and the greatest sticklers opened their doors to her, as if she had been
definitely purified by maternity.

"It is strange, but so it is, and thus everything was going on as well as
possible until the other day, which was the feast of the patron saint of
our town. The prefect, surrounded by his staff and the authorities,
presided at the musical competition, and when he had finished his speech
the distribution of medals began, which Paul Hamot, his private
secretary, handed to those who were entitled to them.

"As you know, there are always jealousies and rivalries, which make
people forget all propriety. All the ladies of the town were there on the
platform, and, in his turn, the bandmaster from the village of Mourmillon
came up. This band was only to receive a second-class medal, for one
cannot give first-class medals to everybody, can one? But when the
private secretary handed him his badge, the man threw it in his face and
exclaimed:

"'You may keep your medal for Baptist