but kept an eye on the movements of her
consort. When he entered the dining-room and went to the sideboard, she
took an equal number of steps in the same direction. When, having
brought out a bottle and glasses, he turned and came toward her, she
retreated. When he stopped, she stopped, and sat down with the same
exact movement.

"Madame, I offer you a glass of the famous Keragouil Burgundy," began
the Comte, filling her glass. "It is a wine that we De Bonzags have
always kept to welcome our wives and to greet our children. Madame, I
have the honor to drink to the Comtesse de Bonzag."

"Oh, M'sieur le Comte," said Francine, who, watching his manner, emptied
the goblet in one swallow.

"To the health of my ancestors!" continued the Comte, draining the
bottle into the two goblets. "And now throw your glass on the floor!"

"Yes, M'sieur," said Francine, who obeyed regretfully, with the new
instinct of a housewife.

"Now, Madame, as wife and mistress of Keragouil, I think it is well
that you understand your position and what I expect of you," said the
Comte, waving her to a seat and occupying a fauteuil in magisterial
fashion. "I expect that you will learn in a willing spirit what I shall
teach you, that you may become worthy of the noble position you occupy."

"Oh, M'sieur may be sure I'll do my best," said Francine, quite
overcome.

"I expect you to show me the deference and obedience that I demand as
head of the house of Bonzag."

"Oh, M'sieur le Comte, how could you think--"

"To be economical and amiable."

"Yes, indeed, M'sieur."

"To listen when I speak, to forget you were a peasant, to give me three
desserts a week, and never, madame, to show me the slightest
infidelity."

At these last words, Francine, already overcome by the rapid whirl of
fortune, as well as by the overcharged spirits of the potent Burgundy,
burst into tears.

"And no tears!" said De Bonzag, withdrawing sternly.

"No, M'sieur; no," Francine cried, hastily drying her eyes. Then
dropping on her knees, she managed to say: "Oh, M'sieur--pardon,
pardon."

"What do you mean?" cried the Comte, furiously.

"Oh, M'sieur forgive me--I will tell you all!"

"Madame--Madame, I don't understand," said the Comte, mastering himself
with difficulty. "Proceed; I am listening."

"Oh, M'sieur le Comte, I'll tell you all. I swear it on the image of St.
Jacques d'Acquin."

"You have not lied to me about your child?" cried Bonzag in horror.