hat's the matter?" said Canalis.

"The father exacts that his daughter shall choose between the two
Canalis--"

"Poor boy!" cried the poet, laughing, "he's a clever fellow, that
father."

"I have pledged my honor that I will take you to Havre," said La Briere,
piteously.

"My dear fellow," said Canalis, "if it is a question of your honor you
may count on me. I'll ask for leave of absence for a month."

"Modeste is so beautiful!" exclaimed La Briere, in a despairing tone.
"You will crush me out of sight. I wondered all along that fate should
be so kind to me; I knew it was all a mistake."

"Bah! we will see about that," said Canalis with inhuman gaiety.

That evening, after dinner, Charles Mignon and Dumay, were flying,
by virtue of three francs to each postilion, from Paris to Havre.
The father had eased the watch-dog's mind as to Modeste and her love
affairs; the guard was relieved, and Butscha's innocence established.

"It is all for the best, my old Dumay," said the count, who had been
making certain inquiries of Mongenod respecting Canalis and La Briere.
"We are going to have two actors for one part!" he cried gaily.

Nevertheless, he requested his old comrade to be absolutely silent about
the comedy which was now to be played at the Chalet,--a comedy it might
be, but also a gentle punishment, or, if you prefer it, a lesson given
by the father to the daughter.

The two friends kept up a long conversation all the way from Paris to
Havre, which put the colonel in possession of the facts relating to his
family during the past four years, and informing Dumay that Desplein,
the great surgeon, was coming to Havre at the end of the present month
to examine the cataract on Madame Mignon's eyes, and decide if it were
possible to restore her sight.

A few moments before the breakfast-hour at the Chalet, the clacking of
a postilion's whip apprised the family that the two soldiers were
arriving; only a father's joy at returning after long absence could be
heralded with such clatter, and it brought all the women to the garden
gate. There is many a father and many a child--perhaps more fathers than
children--who will understand the delights of such an arrival, and that
happy fact shows that literature has no need to depict it. Perhaps all
gentle and tender emotions are beyond the range of literature.

Not a word that could trouble the peace of the family was uttered on
this joyful day. Truce was tacitly established