"But that is just what I'll do, as sure as Fate, if you utter another word concerning Mademoiselle Yvonne or her father."
"Mad!" declared the other. "All you Americans are mad! A man never knows how to take you."
"Would you stand by and hear anyone running down Madeleine Demoret or her people?"
"Monsieur, I'd chew his ear!"
"Exactly. I'll spread your nose flat if you utter any more stupidities with regard to Mademoiselle Yvonne."
The Breton whistled softly, and staggered on up the hill. Each few yards thereafter he halted, and whistled, evidently expressing unbounded and inarticulate surprise. All this was intensely annoying to the young American; but it had to be endured. Even more trying was the leave-taking at the door of the Larraidou cottage. The Breton caught Tollemache's hand, and was moved to tears.
"Monsieur," he gurgled, "you have my regrets—a thousand regrets! I understand perfectly. A Frenchman comprehends these things quicker than any other man in the world, even when he has filled the lamp. Gars! If I chew ears and you flatten noses, between us we'll spoil the beauty of any rascal who dares open his mouth against either Mademoiselle Yvonne or Madeleine."
With difficulty Tollemache got rid of him, and strode back down the hill. He had blundered into that foolish comparison of the two girls without giving a thought to its possible significance. The one consolation was that Peridot would be tongue-tied with shame next day, and would probably remember only that he had made a fool of himself.
Passing the Hotel Julia, he ran into Yvonne hurrying down the steps of the annex. Then, of course, he flung care to the winds.