he scoundrel.

The Marquis, livid with terror, had succeeded in opening the door.

"Here, Cliepe! Here!" shouted Pierre.

The dog gave Cyprien another furious shake, and dropped him. He rolled
himself out of the door. Pierre flung it to and bolted it.

"Farewell!" he cried. "You will get your punishment in another world!"

And from his window he watched two black shadows fleeing toward
Saint-Ame.

CHAPTER XIX.

A FIRST MEETING.

Just as Fanfar mounted his horse, an incident occurred which passed
unperceived by the others.

Irene went up to the groom who held her horse, and with the air of
giving him some directions, she said to Fanfar, in a low voice:

"Are you not wounded? Are you not risking your life to save that of your
father?" She emphasized the word father, as if to make amends for having
previously called him master.

"I am always ready to die for those I love!" answered Fanfar, as he
examined the animal with attention.

Irene was silent for a moment. She admired the courage and the devotion
of this man, but was at the same time irritated at the attraction she
felt toward him. Obeying her sarcastic impulse, she said, quickly:

"I have christened my horse since I saw you. His name is Fanfar!"

Fanfar smiled.

"Very good!" he answered, as he patted the animal's glossy side. "We two
Fanfars must not shrink from any danger!"

Irene remembered the inundation, but before she could speak the animal
and rider were away.

"The carriage is waiting for you," said Madame Ursula, approaching.

"Yes, let us go," answered the girl, with feverish haste, and as she
took her seat in the carriage, she said to herself: "Yes, I see what he
means--make myself beloved, is what he said!"

Fanfar, directed by some peasants, was now far on the road. He tore off
his hat and flung it away. His brow was burning. Was it his violent
exertions that had given him this fever? Or was it the anxiety he felt
for his adopted father? But Gudel's pale face was obscured by a mocking
though sweet face, which flitted between him and all else. How beautiful
she was!

* * * * *

The two men, when they fled from the cottage of old Labarre, were
entirely routed and discomfited. It was not the Marquis who was afraid
of the pistol--he fled from the echo of his father's words, which the
old servant had repeated.

Cyprien could hardly draw a breath without pain, for the dog had wounded
him on th