what was
my disgust to hear the wretched tinkle of a guitar under the window!
Serenades might be all very well for Italy, but we did not favor them
in Nismes; and stepping briskly up to the musician, I said abruptly,
"We want none of this miserable noise!"

He started as if shot, saying, "Pardon, monsieur," evidently taking
me for one of the family; a mistake which I favored by knocking at the
door. As I was in deep shadow he did not recognize me, but the moonlight
fell full on his face, and I saw it was Martin Prunevaux. I felt
exceedingly inclined to fall on him and beat him for daring to tune his
wretched pipes under Madeleine's window; but a second thought assured me
that Gabrielle must be his object; the more so that I was sure I saw her
shadow (which was shorter than her sister's) fall on the curtain, and
I could even fancy her making merry behind it. Still, I liked not such a
fellow to come prowling about either of the sisters. I stood my ground,
that I might not be guilty of a runaway knock, and when Alice came to
the door I made a bungling speech and said, "Oh, I suppose the family
are all gone to bed. I am late tonight." She said, "They are so, sir,"
and looked surprised. I said, "There was a street musician of some sort
before the house when I came up. I think I have chased him away." She
said, "All the better, sir; we are much obliged to you; we never
encourage such people."

When I rallied Madeleine, next day, on having been serenaded, tears
sprang into her eyes, and she assured me it was not her fault, adding
that she feared Gabrielle, in her thoughtlessness, must have given some
encouragement to a presumptuous young man. "However, when my father
returns, he will take measures," she added, "to prevent our being
further troubled with him." Monsieur Bourdinave was at this time
traveling on business.

The sisters spent that evening at our house as was not unusual. On these
occasions we often sang hymns; and I had just set the tune of "Chantez
de Dieu le renom"--

"Chantez de Dieu le renom,
Vous serviteurs du Seigneur!
Venez pour lui faire honneur,
Vous qui avez eu ce don"--

and was lifting up my voice on high, followed by the sweet treble of the
girls, when a shower of stones rattled against the casement, and a flint
passed close to Madeleine and hit my father on the cheekbone. Hot with
anger, I rushed into the street, and found a group of unmannerly fellows
outside, who, instead of taki