But it was too late; Jacques had disappeared, he was already far away, and his brother’s shouts did not reach his ears. Edouard returned sadly to the garden; he paused in the gateway, and looked out into the fields once more, and as he could see no one, decided at last to close the gate. “Oh! he will come again,” he said to himself; “he is a hot-headed fellow, who loses his temper in an instant. However, I didn’t mean to insult him; I offered him money, because he seemed in great need of it, and I don’t see why he took offence at that. I gave him to understand that his dress, his aspect, would be out of place in a salon. Was I so very wrong? Can I conscientiously present to my wife and my mother-in-law a man who looks like an escaped convict, at the best? It would be enough to make a man die of shame--and that too on the very morrow of my marriage! With the money I offered him he might have dressed decently; but no! he will not shave his moustaches! Faith, he may do as he pleases; I did what it was my duty to do.” Edouard strove to convince himself that he had not done wrong; he did not admit that his cold and constrained manner might well have humiliated his brother; but a secret voice arose in the depths of his heart and reproached him for his unkindness. Dissatisfied with himself and disturbed concerning the outcome of that adventure, Edouard returned to his cabriolet and drove away from the village, without giving the concierge any orders. When he entered Paris, he was still uncertain as to what he should do. At last he decided not to mention the encounter to his wife and his mother-in-law, thinking that it would be time enough to introduce them to his brother when he should call. When he arrived, his Adeline ran to meet him, scolded him fondly because he had been away so long, and asked him about his journey. “It is all finished,” said Edouard; “the deeds are passed and the pretty house is ours now.” “And you had no unpleasant meetings?” asked Adeline with a smile. “I--no--as you see.” “And you did not see that terrible face with the moustaches again?” asked Madame Germeuil. “No, I did not see him again.” “I am glad of it, for that man really looked like the leader of a band of robbers, and for my part I have no sort of desire to see him again, I assure you.” Edouard blushed; his brother had the appearance of a highwayman! That thought troubled him; he believed that they would guess his secret, and he dared not raise his eyes. But his wife’s caresses dispelled his disquietude to some extent. “What on earth is the matter, my dear?” asked Adeline; “you seem very pensive and preoccupied to-night.” “Nothing is the matter, my dear love; the bore of being away from you so long has been my only unhappiness.” “Dear Edouard! May you always think the same, for then you will never leave me.--By the way, when do we start for our country house?” “Oh! in a week.” “A week! That is a very long while!”