"Well, Monsieur de Buxieres," said she, "do matters go more to your liking now? You have acted most generously toward Claudet, and he ought to be pleased."
"Has he spoken to you, then?"
"No; not himself, but good news, like bad, flies fast, and all the villagers are singing your praises."
"I only did a very simple and just thing," replied Julien.
"Precisely, but those are the very things that are the hardest to do. And according as they are done well or ill, so is the person that does them judged by others."
"You have thought favorably of me then, Mademoiselle Vincart," he ventured, with a timid smile.
"Yes; but my opinion is of little importance. You must be pleased with yourself—that is more essential. I am sure that it must be pleasanter now for you to live at Vivey?"
"Hm!—more bearable, certainly."
The conversation languished again. As they approached the confines of the farm they heard distant barking, and then the voices of human beings. Finally two gunshots broke on the air.
"Ha, ha!" exclaimed Reine, listening, "the Auberive Society is following the hounds, and Claudet must be one of the party. How is it you were not with them?"