sh us to make a litter and carry you?"

"You are laughing at me; it's not so bad as that. I will walk back
slowly, and will take a foot-bath in my room."

"Lean upon me, then, and I will help you," said the artist, offering his
arm.

"Thanks; I do not need you," Octave replied; "go to the devil!" he
continued, in an expressive aside.

"Capisco!" Marillac replied, in the same tone, giving his arm an
expressive pressure. "Excuse me," said he aloud, "I am not willing that
you should go alone. I will be your Antigone--

Antigone me reste, Antigone est and fille.

"Bergenheim, I will take charge of him. Go on with your hunting, the
gentlemen are waiting for you. We will meet again at supper; around the
table; legs are articles of luxury and sprains a delusion, provided that
the throat and stomach are properly treated."

The Baron looked first at his guests, then at the group that had just
reached the top of the clearing. For an instant Christian charity
struggled against love of hunting, then the latter triumphed. As he saw
that Octave, although limping slightly, was already in a condition to
walk, especially with the aid of his friend's arm, he said:

"Do not forget to put your foot in water, and send for Rousselet; he
understands all about sprains."

This advice having eased his conscience, he joined his companions, while
the two friends slowly took the road back to the chateau, Octave resting
one hand upon the artist's arm and the other upon his gun.

"The bourgeois is outwitted!" said Marillac with a stifled laugh, as soon
as he was sure that Bergenheim could not hear him. "Upon my word, these
soldiers have a primitive, baptismal candor! It is not so with us
artists; they could not bamboozle us in this way. Your strain is an old
story; it is taken from the 'Mariage de raison', first act, second
scene."

"You will do me the favor to leave me as soon as we reach the woods,"
said Gerfaut, as he continued to limp with a grace which would have made
Lord Byron envious; "you may go straight ahead, or you may turn to the
left, as you choose; the right is forbidden you."

"Very well. Hearts are trumps, it seems, and, for the time being, you
agree with Sganarelle, who places the heart on the right side."

"Do not return to the chateau, as it is understood that we are together.
If you rejoin the hunting-party, say to Bergenheim that you left me
seated at the foot of a tree and that the pain in my foot had almost