"How foolish that dear Joseph was!" his mother thought. "But oh, what a contrast to that odious dinner-party! Now, this is peace, this is what I have prayed for, to have them both happy at home, and free of Lancilly." But when she kissed her boy that night, looking eagerly into his face, something cold touched her heart. For his look was far away, and the smile in his eyes was not for her at all. "Urbain," she said, "are you sure that all is right with Ange?" "All, my beloved, except a little superstition about the moon, of which life will cure him," her husband answered with his queer smile. "The moon! Yes, he talked last night about the moon," she said. "That is what I mean, Urbain, not your moon for the vintage." "Oh! la belle Hélène!" he said lightly. "Don't derange yourself. I did not tell you--I found her mother this morning in a resolute state of mind. She does not intend to have the young lady on her hands long. If not one marriage, it will be another, you will see. Hervé will find he must leave the matter to his wife. Ange! bah! children's fancies are not worth a thought. If you lived more in the world, you would be happier, my poor Anne." "I don't think so," Anne said as she turned away. The next morning Monsieur Urbain stayed indoors till breakfast time. This was often enough a habit of his, but he was generally buried in his books and did not care to be disturbed. To-day he wandered about the house, took a turn into the porch, observed the clouds, looked at his watch, and behaved generally with a restlessness that Anne would have found unaccountable; but she was out with a sick woman in the village. She came in soon after ten, followed by Angelot from his shooting. They sat down to breakfast, that warm day, with doors and windows open. The old, low room with its brick-paved floor was shady and pleasant, opening on the stone court where the porch was; the polished table was loaded with fruit. Angelot's dog lay stretched in a patch of sunshine; he was ordered out several times, but always came back. When the heat became too much he rose panting, and flung his long body into the shade; then the chilly bricks drove him back into the sun again. The three were rather silent. Urbain, who always led their talk, was a little preoccupied that morning. After finishing his second large slice of melon, he looked up at Angelot and said, "After breakfast I will go with you to La Joubardière. We must settle with Joubard about the vintage; it is time things were fixed. I say the first of October. As to his moons, I cannot listen to such absurdities. He must arrange what suits me and the weather and the vines. First of all, me." "That is decided," said Angelot, smiling. "Joubard will shake his head, but he will obey you. You are a tyrant in your way."