shall I be?" he answered, laughing. "How is M. Malaumain?"

"He is well, thank you, M. Theo. He has made many more interesting
discoveries about the Conqueror. He is very superior, M. Malaumain," she
added, turning to Brigit. "He was in service with many great people, so
he is never shy, as I am."

Chatting cheerfully, she set a small iron-table outside the door for
them, and then looking thoughtfully at them and murmuring, "Coffee,
boiled eggs, fresh bread and honey," disappeared, leaving them alone in
the slowly awakening Palace St. Gervais.

"What time is the Mass?" asked Brigit, as a tall cart clattered up to
the fountain and a brisk middle-aged woman climbed down from it and
began setting up her stand for the day's market.

"At ten. I hope _grand-pere_ will behave well. I sometimes think he is
more mischievous than--than silly, poor old man. The cure who married
them called yesterday and congratulated him, whereupon _grand-pere_
looked up and remarked that he didn't mind being married again, but that
most men got a new wife the second time! Poor old M. Clery almost died."

"And what did _grand-mere_ say?" asked Brigit.

"Nothing. Just looked at him. _Petite mere_ said it was a dreadful
scene, but _grand-pere_ was much pleased with himself, and chuckled all
day."

"I rather suspect his--sincerity, too, since I saw him trying to make
Papillon eat a domino. Oh, what's that?"

Up the street came a small procession; two brown-faced little boys, one
of them ringing a bell, followed by a priest in a well-washed and darned
white garment.

Theo rose and took off his hat. "It is the Viaticum," he said simply,
crossing himself.

The town was waking now; everywhere shop shutters were being taken down
and people in sabots clattered about, while a steady stream of high
carts, each with a big-boned horse between its shafts, drew up near the
fountain and deposited their owners in the market-place.

"A little later on in the year the apples make a splendid
colour-effect," commented Theo, breaking off to add in surprise, "Why,
here is father!"

It was indeed Joyselle hurrying towards them, a soft hat jammed down
over his eyes, so that he did not see them till his son accosted him.

"Father!"

"Theo!"

"Is anything wrong?" asked the young man rising.

Joyselle shook his head with a frown. "Wrong? What should be wrong?" he
returned harshly.

"But you look----"

"Hungry, probably. _Bonjour_, Brigitte. Yes, I _