e, an evil
thought pulled down the corners of his mouth as he stepped from the
cask. His son went to him and taking his arm, said: "Come, you've done
enough for to-day."

The old man made no reply, but submissively walked away into the Coin
& Anes. Once however he turned and looked the way Detricand had gone,
muttering.

The peasants cheered him as he passed. Presently, free of the crowd and
entering the Rue d'Egypte, he said to Ranulph:

"I'm going alone; I don't need you."

"Where are you going?" asked Ranulph.

"Home," answered the old man gloomily.

Ranulph stopped. "All right; better not come out again to-day."

"You're not going to let that Frenchman hurt me?" suddenly asked
Delagarde with morose anxiety. "You're going to stop that? They'd put me
in prison."

Ranulph stooped over his father, his eyes alive with anger, his face
blurred with disgust.

"Go home," said he, "and never mention this again while you live, or
I'll take you to prison myself." Ranulph watched his father disappear
down the Rue d'Egypte, then he retraced his steps to the Vier Marchi.
With a new-formed determination he quickened his walk, ruling his face
to a sort of forced gaiety, lest any one should think his moodiness
strange. One person after another accosted him. He listened eagerly, to
see if anything were said which might show suspicion of his father. But
the gossip was all in old Delagarde's favour. From group to group he
went, answering greetings cheerily and steeling himself to the whole
disgusting business.

Presently he saw the Chevalier du Champsavoys with the Sieur de Mauprat.
This was the first public appearance of the chevalier since the sad
business at the Vier Prison a fortnight before. The simple folk had
forgotten their insane treatment of him then, and they saluted him
now with a chirping: "Es-tu biaou, chevalier?" and "Es-tu gentiment,
m'sieu'?" to which he responded with amiable forgiveness. To his idea
they were only naughty children, their minds reasoning no more
clearly than they saw the streets through the tiny little squares of
bottle-glass in the windows of their homes.

All at once they came face to face with Detricand. The chevalier stopped
short with pleased yet wistful surprise. His brow knitted when he saw
that his compatriot had been drinking again, and his eyes had a pained
look as he said eagerly:

"Have you heard from the Comte de Tournay, monsieur? I have not seen you
these days past. You