And from
things they said as they went, he thought they and the imperial officers
were best apart. The Messieurs d'Ombre especially, from their talk,
would have been dangerous companions at table. Pistols, prisons, a
general insurrection and so forth.

"My poor brother will be punished enough," said Urbain, "if he has to
spend his time in Purgatory with these d'Ombres."

He glanced at his wife, who did not like such allusions as this; but she
bent over her frame and said nothing.

"Go on, tell me all," he said to his son.

Angelot told him the whole story. He was an emotional person, with a
strong sense of humour. The Prefect's generosity brought tears into his
eyes; the General's adventure made him laugh heartily, but he was soon
grave again.

"I have not seen General Ratoneau," he said. "But I have heard that he
is a very revengeful man, and I am sorry you should have offended him,
my boy."

"He offended me!" said Angelot, laughing. "I tried to save him; he swore
at me and would not be saved. Then he tried to strike me and I would not
be struck. And it was I who pulled him out of the bushes, and a clumsy
lump he was, too. I assure you, father, the debt is on his side, not
mine. One of these days he shall pay it, if I live."

"Nonsense! forget all about it as soon as you can," said his father. "As
to his language, that was natural to a soldier. Another time, leave a
soldier to fight his own battles, even with a herd of cows. To run
between a soldier and his enemy is like interfering between husband and
wife, or putting your hand between the bark and the tree. Never do it
again."

"You do not practise what you preach," said Madame de la Mariniere,
while Angelot looked a little crestfallen. "I wonder who has run between
more adversaries than yourself, in the last few years!"

"My dear friend, I never yet differed with an imperial officer, or
presumed to know better than my superiors, even on Angevin country
subjects," said her husband, smiling.

"Ah!" she sighed. Her brows wrinkled up a little, and there was a touch
of scorn in the pretty lines of her mouth. "Ah! Ange and I will never
reach your philosopher's level," she said.

"I wish--I wish--" Monsieur Urbain muttered, pacing up and down, "that
Joseph would grow a little wiser as he grows older. The Prefect is
excellent--if it were only the Prefect--but the fellows who were with
him--yes, it would be disagreeable to feel that there was a string round
J