"Are you going to stop beating that child?" he said in a voice that
trembled with anger.

Julien turned round in astonishment.

"But don't you see what a state the little wretch has got his livery
into?"

"What does that matter to me?" exclaimed the baron, with his head
between the two. "You sha'n't be so rough with him."

Julien got angry.

"Kindly leave me alone," he said; "it's nothing to do with you;" and he
raised his hand to strike the lad again. The baron caught hold of his
son-in-law's wrist, and flung his uplifted hand heavily down against the
woodwork of the seat, crying:

"If you don't stop that, I'll get out and soon make you."

He spoke in so determined a tone that the vicomte's rage suddenly
vanished, and, shrugging his shoulders, he whipped up the horses, and
the carriage moved on again. All this time Jeanne and her mother had sat
still, pale with fright, and the beating of the baroness's heart could
be distinctly heard. At dinner that evening Julien was more agreeable
than usual, and behaved as if nothing had happened. Jeanne, her father,
and Madame Adelaide easily forgave, and, touched by his good temper,
they joined in his gayety with a feeling of relief. When Jeanne
mentioned the Brisevilles, her husband even made a joke about them,
though he quickly added:

"But one can see directly that they are gentlepeople."

No more visits were paid, as everyone dreaded any reference to Marius,
but they were going to send cards to their neighbors on New Year's day,
and then wait to call on them until spring came, and the weather was
warmer.

On Christmas day and New Year's day, the cure, the mayor, and his wife
dined at Les Peuples, and their two visits formed the only break in the
monotonous days. The baron and baroness were to leave the chateau on the
ninth of January; Jeanne wanted them to stay longer, but Julien did not
second her invitation, so the baron ordered the post-chaise to be sent
from Rouen. The evening before they went away was clear and frosty, so
Jeanne and her father walked down to Yport, for they had not been there
since Jeanne's return from Corsica.

They went across the wood where she had walked on her wedding-day with
him whose companion she was henceforth to be, where she had received his
first kiss, and had caught her first glimpse of that sensual love which
was not fully revealed to her till that day in the valley of Ota when
she had drunk her husband's kisses with the water