etiquette in our intercourse was rather fantastic. Sometimes, when the
excitement of sport or the fatigue of the day had greater powers over
them than I, they used to have their own way; and I already knew how
to yield at the right moment, as tyrants do, so as always to avoid the
appearance of being compelled. However, I generally found a chance for
revenge, and soon saw them trembling before the hated name of my family.

Well, night was coming on, and we were walking along gaily, whistling,
knocking down crab-apples with stones, imitating the notes of birds,
when the boy who was ahead suddenly stopped, and, coming back to us,
declared that he was not going by the Gazeau Tower path, but would
rather cut across the wood. This idea was favoured by two others. A
third objected that we ran the risk of losing ourselves if we left the
path, that night was near, and that there were plenty of wolves about.

"Come on, you funks!" I cried in a princely tone, pushing forward the
guide; "follow the path, and have done with this nonsense."

"Not me," said the youngster. "I've just seen the sorcerer at his door
saying magic words, and I don't want to have a fever all the year."

"Bah!" said another; "he doesn't do harm to everybody. He never hurts
children; and, besides, we have only to pass by very quietly without
saying anything to him. What do you suppose he'll do to us?"

"Oh, it would be all right if we were alone," answered the first; "but
M. Bernard is here; we're sure to have a spell cast on us."

"What do you say, you fool?" I cried, doubling my fist.

"It's not my fault, my lord," replied the boy. "That old wretch doesn't
like the gentry, and he has said he would be glad to see M. Tristan and
all his sons hanging from the same bough."

"He said that, did he? Good!" I answered. "Come on, and you shall see.
All who are my friends will follow; any one that leaves me is a coward."

Two of my companions, out of vanity, let themselves be drawn on. The
others pretended to imitate them; but, after a few steps, they had all
taken flight and disappeared into the copse. However, I went on proudly,
escorted by my two acolytes. Little Sylvain, who was in front, took off
his hat as soon as he saw Patience in the distance; and when we arrived
opposite him, though the man was looking on the ground without appearing
to notice us, he was seized with terror, and said, in a trembling voice:

"Good evening, Master Patience; a good night