I have said that the path was a narrow one. The two horses could hardly walk abreast. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at that even so good a horseman as Thémines should graze against Saint-Clair's foot as he walked along with him. This put the finishing touch to his anger, and he could not contain himself any longer. He rose in his stirrups and struck Thémines' horse sharply across the nose with his whip. "What the devil is the matter with you, Auguste?" cried Thémines. "Why do you strike my horse?" "Why do you pursue me?" roared Saint-Clair. "Have you lost your senses, Saint-Clair? You forget to whom you are talking." "I know quite well that I am talking to a puppy." "Saint-Clair!... you must be mad, I think.... Listen to me. To-morrow you will either apologise to me, or you will account for your insolent conduct." "To-morrow, then, sir--" Thémines stopped his horse; Saint-Clair pushed his on, and very soon disappeared among the trees. He was calmer now. He was silly enough to believe in presentiments. He felt sure he would be killed on the morrow, and that would be a suitable ending to his condition. Only one more day of anxieties and torments to endure. He went home and sent a note by his servant to Colonel Beaujeu. He wrote several letters, after which he dined with a good appetite, and was promptly at the little garden gate by 8.30. * * * * * "What is the matter with you to-day, Auguste?" said the Countess. "You are unusually lively, and yet your gaiety does not move me to laugh. Last night you were just a trifle dull, and I was the gay one! We have changed parts to-day. I have a racking headache." "Dear one, I admit it. Yes, I was very tedious yesterday, but to-day I have been out, I took exercise, and I feel quite excited." "On the other hand, I overslept myself this morning, and rose late. I had bad dreams." "Ah! dreams? Do you believe in dreams?" "What nonsense!" "I believe in them. I am sure that you had a dream which foretold some tragic event." "Good heavens! I never remember my dreams. Once I recollect ... that I saw Massigny in my dream; so, you see, it was not very entertaining." "Massigny! But I should have thought you would have been pleased at seeing him again!" "Poor Massigny!" "Why 'poor Massigny'?" "Please tell me, Auguste, what is wrong with you to-night. Your smile is perfectly diabolic, and you seem to be making game of yourself." "Ah! now you are treating me as badly as your old dowager friends treat me." "Yes, Auguste, you wear the same expression to-day that you put on before people whom you do not like." "That is unpardonable in me. Come, give me your hand." He kissed her hand with ironical gallantry, and they gazed at each other studiously for a minute. Saint-Clair was the first to drop his eyes.