"Oh, no; I am afraid of neither. Even if they attempted to do me harm, and why should they? have I not Toinon at hand, and her no less devoted lover?"
"Harm! From us!" echoed Pharamond, vastly tickled. "Phebus is an ogre with great teeth and one blear eye, whilst I am the original Croquemitaine, devourer of white-fleshed maidens."
"I have said I am not afraid of you," remarked the marquise, demurely.
"Jean Boulot, the devoted lover!" continued the playful abbé. "More danger in his little finger, I warrant, than in both our bodies. While you are absent, Clovis, I've half a mind to divert myself with pretty Toinon; but, alas! I am in terror of her big surly bear. A brawny malcontent! Only the other day I heard him deliver an address under the village tree--such a compound of fire and brimstone--and I suppose my smile was not respectful; for, catching my eye, he directed his abuse at me, and poured forth such a scurrilous diatribe against our class that I was glad enough to escape. Like everyone else, however, he respects Gabrielle, and when he becomes aggressive, she shall shield us from his wrath!"
The marquise was relieved, for this was a delicate way of hinting that there was to be no recurrence of that scene. Why should she mind being left with the brothers? Clovis, who did not shine as a protector, might depart on his mission with a light heart, to return as soon as possible wreathed with the laurels of success.
He went, and the household, after the small excitement of the unimportant incident, returned to its monotony of peace. The brothers treated their chatelaine with such an increase of punctilio and ceremony as should perforce stop the idle gossip of provincial busybodies. Even shrewd Toinon, who was of an unbelieving turn, and never quite satisfied with regard to the honeyed churchman, looked on the situation with approval.
The marquis had been absent three weeks when a messenger arrived with a missive directed to the abbé. Gabrielle was in the moat garden superintending the chevalier, who was occupied in the watering of plants. Toinon was there, too, looking after Jean Boulot, as was her duty, while he clipped and trimmed the hedges, with the prodigies hanging to his coat-tails. The group made a charming picture of rural bliss, such as it makes good the heart to look upon. Through the postern-door leisurely emerged the abbé, gazing at a paper as he descended the grassy slope with a scowl of genuine annoyance.
"What is it?" cried Gabrielle, turning pale. "Nothing wrong with Clovis?"
"Everything wrong with Clovis," retorted Pharamond, testily. "He must have lost his wits to be capable of such a proceeding."
"He is well?"