e always began the day.

The taste of the liquid brought back the afternoon of the day before,
and he suddenly stopped drinking, threw back his head, and laughed
softly.

"By Jingo, but that liqueur was stunning--and so was-Sophie... Sophie!
That sounds compromisingly familiar this morning, and very improper
also! But Sophie is a very nice person, and I ought to be well ashamed
of myself. I needed the bit and curb both yesterday. It'll never do
at all. If I'm going to marry Christine, we must have no family
complications. 'Must have'!" he exclaimed. "But what if Sophie
already?--good Lord!"

It was a strange sport altogether, in which some people were bound to
get a bad fall, himself probably among the rest. He intended to rob
the brother, he had set the government going against the brother's
revolutionary cause, he was going to marry one sister, and the
other--the less thought and said about that matter the better.

The afternoon brought Nic, who seemed perplexed and excited, but
was most friendly. It seemed to Ferrol as if Nic wished to disclose
something; but he gave him no opportunity. What he knew he knew, and he
could make use of; but he wanted no further confidences. Ever since the
night of the fight with the bear there had been nothing said on matters
concerning the Rebellion. If Nicolas disclosed any secret now, it must
surely be about the money, and that must not be if he could prevent it.
But he watched his friend, nevertheless.

Night came, and Christine did not return; eight o'clock, nine o'clock.
Lavilette and his wife were a little anxious; but Ferrol and Nicolas
made excuses for her, and, in the wild talk and gossip about the
Rebellion, attention was easily shifted from her. Besides, Christine was
well used to taking care of herself.

Lavilette flatly refused to give Nic a penny for "the cause," and
stormed at his connection with it; but at last became pacified, and
agreed it was best that Madame Lavilette should know nothing about Nic's
complicity just yet. At half past nine o'clock Nic left the house and
took the road towards the Seigneury.

CHAPTER XIII

About half-way between the Seigneury and the main street of the village
there was a huge tree, whose limbs stretched across the road and made
a sort of archway. In the daytime, during the summer, foot travellers,
carts and carriages, with their drivers, loitered in its shade as they
passed, grateful for the rest it gave; but at night,