r," said Calyste, "that Felicite will never be an
obstacle to my marriage."

Gasselin appeared with the horses.

"Where are you going, chevalier?" said his father.

"To Saint-Nazaire."

"Ha, ha! and when is the marriage to be?" said the baron, believing that
Calyste was really in a hurry to see Charlotte de Kergarouet. "It is
high time I was a grandfather. Spare the horses," he continued, as he
went on the portico with Fanny to see Calyste mount; "remember that they
have more than thirty miles to go."

Calyste started with a tender farewell to his mother.

"Dear treasure!" she said, as she saw him lower his head to ride through
the gateway.

"God keep him!" replied the baron; "for we cannot replace him."

The words made the baroness shudder.

"My nephew does not love Charlotte enough to ride to Saint-Nazaire
after her," said the old blind woman to Mariotte, who was clearing the
breakfast-table.

"No; but a fine lady, a marquise, has come to Les Touches, and I'll
warrant he's after her; that's the way at his age," said Mariotte.

"They'll kill him," said Mademoiselle du Guenic.

"That won't kill him, mademoiselle; quite the contrary," replied
Mariotte, who seemed to be pleased with Calyste's behavior.

The young fellow started at a great pace, until Gasselin asked him if
he was trying to catch the boat, which, of course, was not at all his
desire. He had no wish to see either Conti or Claude again; but he did
expect to be invited to drive back with the ladies, leaving Gasselin to
lead his horse. He was gay as a bird, thinking to himself,--

"_She_ has just passed here; _her_ eyes saw those trees!--What a lovely
road!" he said to Gasselin.

"Ah! monsieur, Brittany is the most beautiful country in all the world,"
replied the Breton. "Where could you find such flowers in the hedges,
and nice cool roads that wind about like these?"

"Nowhere, Gasselin."

"_Tiens_! here comes the coach from Nazaire," cried Gasselin presently.

"Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel and her niece will be in it. Let us hide,"
said Calyste.

"Hide! are you crazy, monsieur? Why, we are on the moor!"

The coach, which was coming up the sandy hill above Saint-Nazaire, was
full, and, much to the astonishment of Calyste, there were no signs of
Charlotte.

"We had to leave Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, her sister and niece;
they are dreadfully worried; but all my seats were engaged by the
custom-house," said the conductor to Gasselin.

"I