I will wait outside in the fresh air. The
odor of this room stifles me!"

"You are not going to leave us, Le Gardeur!" Varin called, across
the table, "and break up good company? Wait till we finish a few more
rounds, and we will all go together."

"I have finished all the rounds for to-day, Varin, may be forever!
Colonel Philibert is my dearest friend in life; I must leave even you to
go with him, so pray excuse me."

"You are excused, Le Gardeur." Bigot spoke very courteously to him, much
as he disliked the idea of his companionship with Philibert. "We must
all return by the time the Cathedral bells chime noon. Take one parting
cup before you go, Le Gardeur, and prevail on Colonel Philibert to do
the same, or he will not praise our hospitality, I fear."

"Not one drop more this day, were it from Jove's own poculum!" Le
Gardeur repelled the temptation more readily as he felt a twitch on his
sleeve from the hand of Philibert.

"Well, as you will, Le Gardeur; we have all had enough and over, I dare
say. Ha! ha! Colonel Philibert rather puts us to the blush, or would
were not our cheeks so well-painted in the hues of rosy Bacchus."

Philibert, with official courtesy, bade adieu to the Intendant and the
company. A couple of valets waited upon Le Gardeur, whom they assisted
to bathe and dress. In a short time he left the Chateau almost sobered,
and wholly metamorphosed into a handsome, fresh chevalier. A perverse
redness about the eyes alone remained, to tell the tale of the last
night's debauch.

Master Pothier sat on a horse-block at the door with all the gravity
of a judge, while he waited for the return of Colonel Philibert and
listened to the lively noise in the Chateau, the music, song, and jingle
of glass forming a sweet concert in the ears of the jolly old notary.

"I shall not need you to guide me back, Master Pothier," said Philibert,
as he put some silver pieces in his hollow palm; "take your fee. The
cause is gained, is it not, Le Gardeur?" He glanced triumphantly at his
friend.

"Good-by, Master Pothier," said he, as he rode off with Le Gardeur. The
old notary could not keep up with them, but came jolting on behind, well
pleased to have leisure to count and jingle his coins. Master Pothier
was in that state of joyful anticipation when hope outruns realization.
He already saw himself seated in the old armchair in the snug parlor
of Dame Bedard's inn, his back to the fire, his belly to the table, a
smo