ning, to show his
esteem for her, he asked her to go out shooting with him, which he had
never done to any woman before, and the invitation appeared so funny to
her that she accepted it.

It was quite an amusement for them to fit her out; everybody offered her
something, and she came out in a sort of short riding habit, with boots
and men's breeches, a short petticoat, a velvet jacket, which was too
tight for her across the chest, and a huntsman's black velvet cap.

The Baron seemed as excited as if he were going to fire his first shot.
He minutely explained to her the direction of the wind, and how different
dogs worked. Then he took her into a field, and followed her as anxiously
as a nurse does when her charge is trying to walk for the first time.

Medor soon made a point, and stopped with his tail out stiff and one paw
up, and the Baron, standing behind his pupil, was trembling like a leaf,
and whispered:

"Look out, they are par ... par ... partridges." And almost before he had
finished, there was a loud _whirr_--_whirr_, and a covey of large birds
flew up in the air, with a tremendous noise.

Madame Vilers was startled, shut her eyes, fired off both barrels and
staggered at the recoil of the gun; but when she had recovered her
self-possession, she saw that the Baron was dancing about like a madman,
and that Medor was bringing back the first of the two partridges which
she had killed.

From that day, Monsieur de Coutelier was in love with her, and used to
say, raising his eyes: "What a woman!" And he used to go and see them
every evening now, and talked about shooting.

One day, Monsieur de Courville, who was walking part of the way with him,
asked him, suddenly:

"Why don't you marry her?"

The Baron was altogether taken by surprise, and said:

"What? I? Marry her? ... Well ... really...."

And he said no more for a while, but then, suddenly shaking hands with
his companion, he said:

"Good-bye, my friend," and quickly disappeared in the darkness.

He did not go again for three days, but when he reappeared, he was pale
from thinking the matter over, and graver than usual. Taking Monsieur de
Courville aside, he said:

"That was a capital idea of yours; try and persuade her to accept me, for
one might say that a woman like she is, was made for me, and you and I
shall be able to have some sort of sport together, all the year round."

As Monsieur de Courville felt certain that his friend would not me