ssed to his breast by his vigorous
arms, it was in vain that she asked for pity. Hell might have opened, ere
he would have dropped his prey.

The struggle lasted several minutes, passionate, silent, ardent. Woman is
weak. Soon nothing was heard ... a sob ... and all died away in the dense
shade.

The startled cricket was silent, and it alone might have counted the sighs,
while in the neighbouring ditch the toad unwearied continued its love-song.

LXXIII.

AUDACES FORTUNA JUVAT.

"If you have done wrong, rebuke yourself sharply:
If you have done well, have satisfaction."

SAINT FRANCOIS DE SALLES (_Traite de l'Amour Divin_).

Marcel reached the parsonage without hindrance. Veronica had not yet
returned. He congratulated himself on that, and went up the stair-case
which led to his room with the light step of a happy man, locked his door,
and began to laugh like a madman.

Everything was safe; only there was down there in a corner of the village,
an honour lost.

--Is it really you, Marcel, is it really you, he said, who have just played
so great a game, and won the trick?

And he laughed, and he rubbed his hands, and he would willingly have danced
a wild saraband, if he had not been afraid of making a noise.

He listened in the next room where his uncle was in bed, and heard his loud
breathing.

--And the hag who is watching still beneath the limes! And the father who
is at Vic, and who, I doubt not, is snoring too. Come, all goes well! all
goes well!

But he stopped, ashamed of himself.

--Decidedly, he said to himself, I have become in a few days utterly bad. I
did not believe that it was possible to make such rapid progress in evil.
But nonsense. Is it evil? Has not God made wine to be drunk, flowers to be
plucked, and women to be loved? As to that weather-beaten old soldier, why
should I feel any pity on his account? He has been insolent, he has
detested me without my ever having done anything to him; I have loved his
daughter, his daughter has loved me, we are quits. I do not see why I
should distress myself about an adventure which would make so many people
happy, and for which all my brethren would have very quickly sold the
sacred Host and the holy Pyx besides. Ah, my dear uncle, good father
Ridoux, sleep, sleep in peace. How greatly am I your debtor for what you
have done for me, unwittingly and in spite of yourself; for, have you not,
by urging me to drink more than is my custom,