The lad's eyes did not respond to her; they were following Sosthene. The husband stood gazing out through the glass for a moment, and then, without moving, swore a long, slow execration. The wife and daughter pressed quickly to his either side and looked forth. There they came, the number increased to eighteen now, trotting leisurely through the subsiding storm. The wife asked what they were, but Sosthene made no reply; he was counting them: twelve, thirteen, fourteen--fourteen with short guns, another one who seemed to wear a sword, and three, that must be-- "Cawnscreep," growled Sosthene, without turning his eyes. But the next moment an unusual sound at his elbow drew his glance upon Zosephine. "_Diable!_" He glared at her weeping eyes, his manner demanding of her instant explanation. She retreated a step, moved her hand toward the approaching troop, and cried distressfully: "_Tu va oere!_"--"You will see!" His glance was drawn to Bonaventure. The lad had turned toward them, and was sitting upright, his blue eyes widened, his face pale, and his lips apart; but ere Sosthene could speak his wife claimed his attention. "Sosthene!" she exclaimed, pressing against the window-pane, "ah, Sosthene! Ah, ah! they have got 'Thanase!" Father, mother, and daughter crowded against the window and one another, watching the body of horse as it drew nigh. Bonaventure went slowly and lay face downward on the bed. Now the dripping procession is at hand. They pass along the dooryard fence. At the little garden gate they halt. Only 'Thanase dismounts. The commander exchanges a smiling word or two with him, and the youth passes through the gate, and, while his companions throw each a tired leg over the pommel and sit watching him, comes up the short, flowery walk and in at the opening door. There is nothing to explain, the family have guessed it; he goes in his father's stead. There is but a moment for farewells. "Adjieu, Bonaventure." The prostrate boy does not move. 'Thanase strides up to the bed and looks at one burning cheek, then turns to his aunt. "_Li malade?_"--"Is he ill?" "_Sa l'air a ca_," said the aunt. (_Il a l'air_--he seems so.) "Bien, n'onc' Sosthene, adjieu." Uncle and nephew shake hands stoutly. "Adjieu," says the young soldier again to his aunt. She gives her hand and turns to hide a tear. The youth takes one step toward Zosephine. She stands dry-eyed, smiling on her father. As the youth comes her eyes, without turning to him, fill. He puts out his hand. She lays her own on it. He gazes at her for a moment, with beseeching eye--"Adjieu." Her eyes meet his one instant--she leaps upon his neck--his strong arms press her to his bosom--her lifted face lights up--his kiss is on her lips--it was there just now, and now--'Thanase is gone, and she has fled to an inner room. Bonaventure stood in the middle of the floor. Why should the boy look so strange? Was it anger, or fever, or joy? He started out.