nows and says of his
midnight maraudings, those two worthy officers, who have already been
his seconds, remain faithful to him."

"You see how it all maps out, uncle," said Philippe. "Therefore, sign
no paper before the third of December; the next day you shall be free,
happy, and beloved by Flore, without having to coax for it."

"You don't know him, Philippe," said the terrified old man. "Maxence has
killed nine men in duels."

"Yes; but ninety thousand francs a year didn't depend on it," answered
Philippe.

"A bad conscience shakes the hand," remarked Mignonnet sententiously.

"In a few days from now," resumed Philippe, "you and the Rabouilleuse
will be living together as sweet as honey,--that is, after she gets
through mourning. At first she'll twist like a worm, and yelp, and weep;
but never mind, let the water run!"

The two soldiers approved of Philippe's arguments, and tried to hearten
up old Rouget, with whom they walked about for nearly two hours. At last
Philippe took his uncle home, saying as they parted:--

"Don't take any steps without me. I know women. I have paid for one, who
cost me far more than Flore can ever cost you. But she taught me how to
behave to the fair sex for the rest of my days. Women are bad children;
they are inferior animals to men; we must make them fear us; the worst
condition in the world is to be governed by such brutes."

It was about half-past two in the afternoon when the old man got home.
Kouski opened the door in tears,--that is, by Max's orders, he gave
signs of weeping.

"Oh! Monsieur, Madame has gone away, and taken Vedie with her!"

"Gone--a--way!" said the old man in a strangled voice.

The blow was so violent that Rouget sat down on the stairs, unable to
stand. A moment after, he rose, looked about the hall, into the kitchen,
went up to his own room, searched all the chambers, and returned to the
salon, where he threw himself into a chair, and burst into tears.

"Where is she?" he sobbed. "Oh! where is she? where is Max?"

"I don't know," answered Kouski. "The captain went out without telling
me."

Gilet thought it politic to be seen sauntering about the town. By
leaving the old man alone with his despair, he knew he should make him
feel his desertion the more keenly, and reduce him to docility. To keep
Philippe from assisting his uncle at this crisis, he had given Kouski
strict orders not to open the door to any one. Flore away, the miserable
old man gre