the sheriff's
practice. The others remained with Ursula and did their best to restore
the peace and tranquillity of her mind, already much relieved by
Goupil's confession.

"You see, my child, that God was not against you," said the abbe.

Minoret came home late from Rouvre. About nine o'clock he was sitting
in the Chinese pagoda digesting his dinner beside his wife, with whom
he was making plans for Desire's future. Desire had become very sedate
since entering the magistracy; he worked hard, and it was not unlikely
that he would succeed the present procureur du roi at Fontainebleau,
who, they said, was to be advanced to Melun. His parents felt that they
must find him a wife,--some poor girl belonging to an old and noble
family; he would then make his way to the magistracy of Paris. Perhaps
they could get him elected deputy from Fontainebleau, where Zelie was
proposing to pass the winter after living at Rouvre for the summer
season. Minoret, inwardly congratulating himself for having managed his
affairs so well, no longer thought or cared about Ursula, at the very
moment when the drama so heedlessly begun by him was closing down upon
him in a terrible manner.

"Monsieur de Portenduere is here and wishes to speak to you," said
Cabirolle.

"Show him in," answered Zelie.

The twilight shadows prevented Madame Minoret from noticing the sudden
pallor of her husband, who shuddered as he heard Savinien's boots on
the floor of the gallery, where the doctor's library used to be. A vague
presentiment of danger ran through the robber's veins. Savinien entered
and remaining standing, with his hat on his head, his cane in his hand,
and both hands crossed in front of him, motionless before the husband
and wife.

"I have come to ascertain, Monsieur and Madame Minoret," he said, "your
reasons for tormenting in an infamous manner a young lady who, as the
whole town knows, is to be my wife. Why have you endeavored to tarnish
her honor? why have you wished to kill her? why did you deliver her over
to Goupil's insults?--Answer!"

"How absurd you are, Monsieur Savinien," said Zelie, "to come and ask us
the meaning of a thing we think inexplicable. I bother myself as little
about Ursula as I do about the year one. Since Uncle Minoret died I've
not thought of her more than I do of my first tooth. I've never said
one word about her to Goupil, who is, moreover, a queer rogue whom I
wouldn't think of consulting about even a dog. Why do