who had been furnished with a bottle of spirits, was now
ready to set out for Strasbourg, and enquired, whether I had any
further commands.

'For Strasbourg?' interrupted Baptiste; 'You are not going thither
tonight?'

'I beg your pardon: If I do not fetch Workmen to mend the Chaise, How
is Monsieur to proceed tomorrow?'

'That is true, as you say; I had forgotten the Chaise. Well, but
Claude; You may at least eat your supper here? That can make you lose
very little time, and Monsieur looks too kind-hearted to send you out
with an empty stomach on such a bitter cold night as this is.'

To this I readily assented, telling the Postillion that my reaching
Strasbourg the next day an hour or two later would be perfectly
immaterial. He thanked me, and then leaving the Cottage with Stephano,
put up his Horses in the Wood-man's Stable. Baptiste followed them to
the door, and looked out with anxiety.

''Tis a sharp biting wind!' said He; 'I wonder, what detains my Boys so
long! Monsieur, I shall show you two of the finest Lads, that ever
stept in shoe of leather. The eldest is three and twenty, the second a
year younger: Their Equals for sense, courage, and activity, are not
to be found within fifty miles of Strasbourg. Would They were back
again! I begin to feel uneasy about them.'

Marguerite was at this time employed in laying the cloth.

'And are you equally anxious for the return of your Sons?' said I to
her.

'Not I!' She replied peevishly; 'They are no children of mine.'

'Come! Come, Marguerite!' said the Husband; 'Do not be out of humour
with the Gentleman for asking a simple question. Had you not looked so
cross, He would never have thought you old enough to have a Son of
three and twenty: But you see how many years ill-temper adds to
you!--Excuse my Wife's rudeness, Monsieur. A little thing puts her
out, and She is somewhat displeased at your not thinking her to be
under thirty. That is the truth, is it not, Marguerite? You know,
Monsieur, that Age is always a ticklish subject with a Woman. Come!
come! Marguerite, clear up a little. If you have not Sons as old, you
will some twenty years hence, and I hope, that we shall live to see
them just such Lads as Jacques and Robert.'

Marguerite clasped her hands together passionately.

'God forbid!' said She; 'God forbid! If I thought it, I would strangle
them with my own hands!'

She quitted the room hastily, and went up stairs.

I could no