"Eh bien, monsieur, a general denial, just as monsieur has made."
"The affair is ridiculous," exclaimed Tanrade hotly.
"That must be seen," returned the tall one firmly.
Again we all saluted and they left us, recovered their bicycles, and went spinning off back to Pont du Sable.
"Nom d'un chien!" muttered Tanrade, while the curé and I stared thoughtfully at a clump of grass.
"Why didn't he get me?" I ventured, after a moment.
"Foreigner," explained Tanrade. "You're in luck, old boy—no record of identity, and how the devil do you suppose Le Bour could pronounce your name?"
Half an hour later I found the Vicomte, who lived close to our village. He was pacing up and down his salon in a rage.
"I was not in the buckwheat!" he declared frantically. "Do you suppose I have nothing better to do, my friend, than see this wretched business out at the county-seat? The [Vicomtesse] is furious. We were to leave, for a little voyage in Italy, next week. Ah, that young son of the Baron! He is the devil! He is responsible for this—naturally." And he fell again to pacing the room.