LITMIR.BIZ

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had hardly taken a hundred steps on the path that led to his farmhouse before he heard a rustling in the bushes near which he passed.

      "Who's there?" he said, standing in the middle of the path, and putting himself on guard with the heavy stick he carried.

      "Friend," replied a youthful voice.

      And the owner of the voice came through the bushes.

      "Why, it is Monsieur le baron!" cried the farmer.

      "I, myself, Courtin," replied Michel.

      "Where are you going at this time of night? Good God! if Madame la baronne knew you were roaming about in the darkness, what do you suppose she would say?" said the farmer, pretending surprise.

      "That's just it, Courtin."

      "Hang it! I suppose Monsieur le baron has his reasons," said the farmer, in his jeering tone.

      "Yes; and you shall hear them as soon as we get to your house."

      "My house! Are you going to my house?" said Courtin, surprised.

      "You don't refuse to take me in, do you?" asked Michel.

      "Good heavens, no! Refuse to take you into a house which, after all, is yours?"

      "Then don't let us lose time, it is so late. You walk first, I'll follow."

      Courtin, rather uneasy at the imperative tone of his young master, obeyed. A few steps farther on he climbed a bank, crossed an orchard, and reached the door of his farmhouse. As soon as he entered the lower room, which served him as kitchen and living-room, he drew a few scattered brands together on the hearth and blew up a blaze; then he lighted a candle of yellow wax and stuck it on the chimney-piece. By the light of this candle he saw what he could not see by the light of the moon, – namely, that Michel was as pale as death.

      "My God! what's the matter with you, Monsieur le baron?" he exclaimed.

      "Courtin," said the young man, frowning, "I heard every word of your conversation with my mother."

      "Confound it! were you listening?" said the farmer, a good deal surprised. But, recovering instantly, he added, "Well, what of it?"

      "You want your lease renewed next year?"

      "I, Monsieur le baron?"

      "You, Courtin; and you want it much more than you choose to own."

      "Of course I shouldn't be sorry to have it renewed, Monsieur le baron; but if there's any objection it wouldn't be the death of me."

      "Courtin, I am the person who will renew your lease, because I shall be of age by that time."

      "Yes, that's so, Monsieur le baron."

      "But you will understand," continued the young man, to whom the desire of saving the Comte de Bonneville and staying near Mary gave a firmness and resolution quite foreign to his character, "you understand, don't you, that if you do as you said to-night, – that is, if you denounce my friends, – I shall most certainly not renew the lease of an informer?"

      "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Courtin.

      "That is certain. Once out of this farm you may say good-bye to it, Courtin; you shall never return to it."

      "But my duty to the government and Madame la baronne?"

      "All that is nothing to me. I am Baron Michel de la Logerie; the estate and château de la Logerie belong to me; my mother resigns them when I come of age; I shall be of age in eleven months, and your lease falls in eight weeks later."

      "But suppose I renounce my intention, Monsieur le baron?"

      "If you renounce your intention, your lease shall be renewed."

      "On the same conditions as before?"

      "On the same conditions as before."

      "Oh, Monsieur le baron, if I were not afraid of compromising you," said Courtin, fetching pen, ink, and paper from the drawer of a desk.

      "What does all this mean?" demanded Michel.

      "Oh, hang it! if Monsieur le baron would only have the kindness to write down what he has just said, – who knows which of us will die first? For my part, I am ready to swear, – here's a crucifix, – well, I swear by Christ-"

      "I don't want your oaths, Courtin, for I shall go from here to Souday and warn Jean Oullier to be on his guard, and Bonneville to get another resting-place."

      "So much the more reason," said Courtin, offering a pen to his young master.

      Michel took the pen and wrote as follows on the paper which the farmer laid before him: -

      "I, the undersigned, Auguste-François Michel, Baron de la Logerie, agree to renew the lease of farmer Courtin on the same conditions as the present lease."

      Then, as he was about to date it, Courtin stopped him.

      "Don't put the date, if you please, my young master," he said. "We will date it the day after you come of age."

      "So be it," said Michel.

      He then merely signed it, and left, between the pledge and the signature, a line to receive the future date.

      "If Monsieur le baron would like to be more comfortable for the night than on that stool," said Courtin, "I will take the liberty to mention that there is, at his service upstairs, a bed that is not so bad."

      "No," replied Michel; "did you not hear me say I was going to Souday?"

      "What for? Monsieur le baron has my promise, I pledge him my word to say nothing. He has time enough."

      "What you saw, Courtin, another may have seen. You may keep silence because you have promised it; but the other, who did not promise, will speak. Good-bye to you."

      "Monsieur le baron will do as he likes," said Courtin; "but he makes a mistake, yes, a great mistake, in going back into that mouse-trap."

      "Pooh! I thank you for your advice; but I am not sorry to let you know I am of an age now to do as I choose."

      Rising as he said the words, with a firmness of which the farmer had supposed him incapable, he went to the door and left the house. Courtin followed him with his eyes till the door was closed; after which, snatching up the written promise, he read it over, folded it carefully in four, and put it away in his pocket-book. Then, fancying he heard voices at a little distance, he went to the window and, drawing back the curtain, saw the young baron face to face with his mother.

      "Ha, ha, my young cockerel!" he said; "you crowed pretty loud with me, but there's an old hen who'll make you lower your comb."

      The baroness, finding that her son did not return, thought that Courtin might be right when he suggested that Michel was possibly at the farmhouse. She hesitated a moment, partly from pride, partly from fear of going out alone at night; but, finally, her maternal uneasiness got the better of her reluctance, and wrapping herself in a large shawl, she set out for the farmhouse. As she approached the door her son came out of it. Then, relieved of her fears for his safety, and seeing him sound and well, her imperious nature reasserted itself.

      Michel, for his part, on catching sight of his mother, made a step backward in terror.

      "Follow me, sir," said the baroness. "It is not too early, I think, to return home."

      The poor lad never once thought of arguing or resisting; he followed his mother passively and obediently as a child. Not a word was exchanged between mother and son the whole way. For that matter, Michel much preferred this silence to a discussion in which his filial obedience, or rather, let us say, his weak nature, would have had the worst of it.

      When they reached the château day was breaking. The baroness, still silent, conducted the young man to his room. There he found a table prepared with food.

      "You must be hungry and very tired," said the baroness. "There you have food, and here you can rest," she added, waving her hand to the table and the bed, after which she retired, closing the door after her.

      The young man trembled as he heard the key turned twice in the lock. He was a prisoner! He fell helplessly into an arm-chair. Events were

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