to the anger of the other. The man and
the woman seemed to have leaped out of their nature in the accession
of their passion. Pity that a quarrel should ever dilate thus, from a
cloud the size of a man's hand to a thunder-storm that covers heaven
with its black and dismal canopy.

Neither would listen to reason. The duty of the notary was to prepare
the process by which they were to be separated.

"Monsieur," he said, "I will arrange the affair for you; but you are
acquainted with the laws of France in this respect!"

"I know nothing of the law," replied M. Pierre Lavalles.

"Madame," said the notary, "your wish shall be complied with. But you
know what the law says on this head?"

"I never read a law book," sharply ejaculated Madame Pierre Lavalles.

"Then," resumed the notary, "the case is this. You must return to
your house, and I will proceed to settle the proceedings with the
Judicatory Court at Paris. They are very strict. You must furnish me
with all the documents relative to property."

"I have them here," put in the husband, by way of parenthesis.

"And the whole affair including correspondence, preparations of
instruments, &c., will be settled in less than three months."

"Three months?"

"Three months. Yes, in less than three months."

"Then I will live with a friend at the village, until it is finished,"
said Madame Lavalles, in a decided, peremptory tone, usual with ladies
when they are a little ashamed of themselves, or any one else.

"Oh, very well, Madame,--oh, very well."

"Not at all well, Madame; not at all well, Monsieur," said the notary,
with a solid, immovable voice. "You must live as usual. If you doubt
my knowledge of the law, you will, by reading through these seven
books, find that this fact is specified."

But the irritated couple were not disposed to undertake the
somniferous task, and shortly left the house, as they had come,
walking the same way, but at a distance of a yard or so one from
another.

Two months and twenty-seven days had passed, when the notary issued
from his house, and proceeded toward the house where Monsieur and
Madame Lavalles dwelt. Since the fatal night I have described, he
had not encountered them, and he now, with a bland face and confident
head, approached the dwelling.

It was a pretty place. Passing through the sunny vineyards where the
spring was just calling out the leaves, and the young shoots in their
tints of tender green were sprouting i