which so many men have said to me--but----"

The coachman turned round.

"Here comes Monsieur Gatien," said he.

"I love you, I will have you, you shall be mine, for I have never felt
for any woman the passion I have for you!" said Lousteau in her ear.

"In spite of my will, perhaps?" said she, with a smile.

"At least you must seem to have been assaulted to save my honor," said
the Parisian, to whom the fatal immaculateness of clean muslin suggested
a ridiculous notion.

Before Gatien had reached the end of the bridge, the outrageous
journalist had crumpled up Madame de la Baudraye's muslin dress to such
an effect that she was absolutely not presentable.

"Oh, monsieur!" she exclaimed in dignified reproof.

"You defied me," said the Parisian.

But Gatien now rode up with the vehemence of a duped lover. To regain a
little of Madame de la Baudraye's esteem, Lousteau did his best to hide
the tumbled dress from Gatien's eyes by leaning out of the chaise to
speak to him from Dinah's side.

"Go back to our inn," said he, "there is still time; the diligence does
not start for half an hour. The papers are on the table of the room
Bianchon was in; he wants them particularly, for he will be lost without
his notes for the lecture."

"Pray go, Gatien," said Dinah to her young adorer, with an imperious
glance. And the boy thus commanded turned his horse and was off with a
loose rein.

"Go quickly to La Baudraye," cried Lousteau to the coachman. "Madame is
not well--Your mother only will know the secret of my trick," added he,
taking his seat by Dinah.

"You call such infamous conduct a trick?" cried Madame de la Baudraye,
swallowing down a few tears that dried up with the fire of outraged
pride.

She leaned back in the corner of the chaise, crossed her arms, and gazed
out at the Loire and the landscape, at anything rather than at Lousteau.
The journalist put on his most ingratiating tone, and talked till they
reached La Baudraye, where Dinah fled indoors, trying not to be seen
by any one. In her agitation she threw herself on a sofa and burst into
tears.

"If I am an object of horror to you, of aversion or scorn, I will go,"
said Lousteau, who had followed her. And he threw himself at her feet.

It was at this crisis that Madame Piedefer came in, saying to her
daughter:

"What is the matter? What has happened?"

"Give your daughter another dress at once," said the audacious Parisian
in the prim old lady's ea