CHAPTER XII

Our travellers did not enjoy their journey back to Brittany. The only one of the party who did not appear to be afifected by their récent misfortunes was M. Levrault. He was not ungrateful to fate, for he thought himself lucky to have escaped with merely the loss of his fortune. As they drove along, he mercilessly teased the mârchioness about her miscalculations. Assuming the fawning manner which she herself had indulged in at La Trélade, he told her how well he knew the simplicity of her tastes. She hated society, he said, and loved peace and retirement. He rejoiced at the blow which had fallen upon him, for it enabled him to take her back to her quiet valley, where they would lead an enchanted existence together in the pretty manor-house which he owed to her graceful kindness ! Having arrived at La Rochelandier, and settled down in its modest apartments, the mârchioness and M. Levrault spent nearly every evening in endless quarrels ; — the former heaping abuse on the

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Republic, the latter talking about wiping out the family escutcheon and converting one of the battlemented towers into a pigeon-house !

One evening they were engaged for the hundredth time in this eternal discussion, when the door opened abruptly, and Jolibois, wearing a tricolour sash, entered the drawing-room, followed by an officer of gendarmes. He at once accused both of conspiring against the Republic. M. Levrault did his best to exculpate himself at the expense of the marchioness, but the latter without the shghtest compunction denounced him as the offender, and at length JoHbois put an end to their mutual récriminations by saying : You hear, citizen Levrault. This is not a question of a report by a Government agent, it is a member of your own family who accuses you. I dare not postpone any longer the exécution of my duty ; follow me." — Follow you? Where?" cried M. Levrault. " To prison," replied Jolibois. "You will be tried before the court, but do not be anxious, the worst that can happen to you is transportation." However, on the way to Nantes Jolibois was seized with pity for the old man, set him down in the middle of a country road, and told him to go and sin no more. M. Levrault made his way back in a downpour of rain to the castle, where he arrived an hour later, drenched to the skin and covered with mud.