"Dear soul from heaven, you brought me good luck," replied Jean, who was quite unable to return the caresses and answer the questions of Antoine and Janille.
"But tell us who has given you back your liberty and peace of mind?" continued Gilberte, when the carpenter had swallowed a large glassful of wine.
"Oh! some one whom you would never guess, who became my surety at once, and will pay my fines. Come, I give you a hundred guesses."
"Perhaps it's the curé of Cuzion?" said Janille. "He's such a good man, although his sermons are a little confused! but he isn't rich enough."
"Who do you think it is, Gilberte?" said Jean.
"I would guess the good curé's sister, Madame Rose, who has such a big heart—except that she is no richer than her brother."
"No, no! that wouldn't be possible! Your turn, Monsieur Antoine."
"I can't imagine," replied the châtelain. "Tell us quickly; you're torturing us."
"But I will wager that I have guessed," said Emile; "I guess my father! for I have talked with him, and I know that he intended——"
"Excuse me, young man," said the carpenter, interrupting him; "I don't know what your father intended, but I know well enough what I never intend, and that is to owe him anything, to accept any favor from the man who began by having me put in prison to force me to accept his pretended benefactions and his hard terms. Thanks! I esteem you, but as to your father, let's say no more about him; let's never talk about him again. Come, come, haven't any of you guessed? Well, what would you say if I should tell you it was Monsieur de Boisguilbault?"