vice of the Abbe Pernot, had made up her mind to break
off a union that was repugnant to her.

"Yes;" he repeated, mournfully to himself, "that must have been the way
it happened." And with this kind of explanation of Reine's actions, his
irritation seemed to lessen. Not that his grief was less poignant, but
the first burst of rage had spent itself like a great wind-storm, which
becomes lulled after a heavy fall of rain; the bitterness was toned down,
and he was enabled to reason more clearly.

Julien--well, what was the part of Julien in all this disturbance? "If
what I imagine is true," thought he, "Monsieur de Buxieres knows that
Reine loves him, but has he any reciprocal feeling for her? With a man as
mysterious as my cousin, it is not easy to find out what is going on in
his heart. Anyhow, I have no right to complain of him; as soon as he
discovered my love for Reine, did he not, besides ignoring his own claim,
offer spontaneously to take my message? Still, there is something queer
at the bottom of it all, and whatever it costs me, I am going to find it
out."

At this moment, through the misty air, he heard faintly the village clock
strike eleven. "Already so late! how the time flies, even when one is
suffering!" He bent his course toward the chateau, and, breathless and
excited, without replying to Manette's inquiries, he burst into the hall
where his cousin was pacing up and down, waiting for breakfast. At this
sudden intrusion Julien started, and noted Claudet's quick breathing and
disordered state.

"Ho, ho!" exclaimed he, in his usual, sarcastic tone, "what a hurry you
are in! I suppose you have come to say the wedding-day is fixed at last?"

"No!" replied Claudet, briefly, "there will be no wedding."

Julien tottered, and turned to face his cousin.

"What's that? Are you joking?"

"I am in no mood for joking. Reine will not have me; she has taken back
her promise."

While pronouncing these words, he scrutinized attentively his cousin's
countenance, full in the light from the opposite window. He saw his
features relax, and his eyes glow with the same expression which he had
noticed a few days previous, when he had referred to the fact that Reine
had again postponed the marriage.

"Whence comes this singular change?" stammered de Buxieres, visibly
agitated; "what reasons does Mademoiselle Vincart give in explanation?"

"Idle words: her father's health, disinclination to leave him. You may
suppose I