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“He stooped and stroked the head of his hound for a moment, and all the people stood and watched him, wondering what next. At last he said: ‘And what part played you in that siege, Garoche?’ Garoche looked troubled, but answered: ‘It was in the way of duty, M’sieu’ le Baron–I with five others captured the relief-party sent from your cousin the Seigneur of Vadrome.’ ‘Oh,’ said the Baron, looking sharp, ‘you were in that, were you? Then you know what happened to the young Marmette?’ Garoche trembled a little, but drew himself up and said: ‘M’sieu’ le Baron, he tried to kill the Intendant–there was no other way.’ ‘What part played you in that, Garoche?’ Some trembled, for they knew the truth, and they feared the mad will of the Baron. ‘I ordered the firing-party, M’sieu’ le Baron,’ he answered.

“The Baron’s eyes got fierce and his face hardened, but he stooped and drew the ears of the hound through his hand softly. ‘Marmette was my cousin’s son, and had lived with me,’ he said. ‘A brave lad, and he had a nice hatred of vileness–else he had not died.’ A strange smile played on his lips for a moment, then he looked at Falise steadily. Who can tell what was working in his mind! ‘War is war,’ he went on, ‘and Bigot was your master, Garoche; but the man pays for his master’s sins this way or that. Yet I would not have it different, no, not a jot.’ Then he turned round to the crowd, raised his hat to the Cure, who stood on the chapel steps, once more looked steadily at Falise, and said: ‘You shall all come to the Manor House, and have your feastings there, and we will drink to the home-coming of the fairest woman in my barony.’ With that he turned round, bowed to Falise, put on his hat, caught the bridle through his arm, and led his horse to the Manor House.

“This was in the afternoon. Of course, whether they wished or not, Garoche and Falise could not refuse, and the people were glad enough, for they would have a free hand at meat and wine, the Baron being liberal of table. And it was as they guessed, for though the time was so short, the people at Beaugard soon had the tables heavy with food and drink. It was just at the time of candle-lighting the Baron came in and gave a toast. ‘To the dwellers in Eden to-night,’ he said–‘Eden against the time of the Angel and the Sword.’ I do not think that any except the Cure and the woman understood, and she, maybe, only because a woman feels the truth about a thing, even when her brain does not. After they had done shouting to his toast, he said a good-night to all, and they began to leave, the Cure among the first to go, with a troubled look in his face.

“As the people left, the Baron said to Garoche and Falise: ‘A moment with me before you go.’ The woman started, for she thought of one thing, and Garoche started, for he thought of another–the siege of Beaugard and the killing of young Marmette. But they followed the Baron to his chamber. Coming in, he shut the door on them. Then he turned to Garoche. ‘You will accept the roof and bed of Beaugard to-night, my man,’ he said, ‘and come to me here at nine tomorrow morning.’ Garoche stared hard for an instant. ‘Stay here!’ said Garoche, ‘Falise and me stay here in the Manor, M’sieu’ le Baron!’ ‘Here, even here, Garoche; so good-night to you,’ said the Baron. Garoche turned towards the girl. ‘Then come, Falise,’ he said, and reached out his hand. ‘Your room, Garoche, shall be shown you at once,’ the Baron added softly, ‘the lady’s at her pleasure.’

“Then a cry burst from Garoche, and he sprang forward, but the Baron waved him back. ‘Stand off,’ he said, ‘and let the lady choose between us.’ ‘She is my wife,’ said Garoche. ‘I am your Seigneur,’ said the other. ‘And there is more than that,’ he went on; ‘for, damn me, she is too fine stuff for you, and the Church shall untie what she has tied to-day!’ At that Falise fainted, and the Baron caught her as she fell. He laid her on a couch, keeping an eye on Garoche the while. ‘Loose her gown,’ he said, ‘while I get brandy.’ Then he turned to a cupboard, poured liquor, and came over. Garoche had her dress open at the neck and bosom, and was staring at something on her breast. The Baron saw also, stooped with a strange sound in his throat, and picked it up. ‘My glove!’ he said. ‘And on her wedding-day!’ He pointed. ‘There on the table is its mate, fished this morning from my hunting-coat–a pair the Governor gave me. You see, man, you see her choice!’