e to poison the soup. Pierre took this as a personal
allusion and requested him to discuss the question outside. But before
the discussion began he made some general remarks about the character
and pretensions of Jean.

"A marquis!" said he. "This bagoulard gives himself out for a marquis!
He is nothing of the kind,--a rank humbug. There is a title in the
family, an estate in France, it is true. But it is mine. I have seen
the papers. I have paid money to the lawyer. I am waiting now for him
to arrange the matter. This man knows nothing about it. He is a fraud. I
will fight him now and settle the matter."

If a bucket of ice-water had been thrown over Jean he could not have
cooled off more suddenly. He was dazed. Another marquis? This was
a complication he had never dreamed of. It overwhelmed him like an
avalanche. He must have time to dig himself out of this difficulty.

"But stop," he cried; "you go too fast. This is more serious than a
pot of soup. I must hear about this. Let us talk first, Pierre, and
afterwards--"

The camp was delighted. It was a fine comedy,--two fools instead of one.
The men pricked up their ears and clamoured for a full explanation, a
debate in open court.

But that was not Jean's way. He had made no secret of his expectations,
but he did not care to confide all the details of his family history to
a crowd of fellows who would probably not understand and would certainly
laugh. Pierre was wrong of course, but at least he was in earnest. That
was something.

"This affair is between Pierre and me," said Jean. "We shall speak of it
by ourselves."

In the snow-muffled forest, that afternoon, where the great tree-trunks
rose like pillars of black granite from a marble floor, and the branches
of spruce and fir wove a dark green roof above their heads, these two
stray shoots of a noble stock tried to untangle their family history.
It was little that they knew about it. They could get back to their
grandfathers, but beyond that the trail was rather blind. Where they
crossed neither Jean nor Pierre could tell. In fact, both of their minds
had been empty vessels for the plausible lawyer to fill, and he had
filled them with various and windy stuff. There were discrepancies and
contradictions, denials and disputes, flashes of anger and clouds of
suspicion.

But through all the voluble talk, somehow or other, the two men were
drawing closer together. Pierre felt Jean's force of character, his air