“My idea,” resumed the Marquis, as he turned his horse’s head, “is to push on as far as La Cornuaille, and then, if we cannot possibly get other horses, to proceed on foot. These creatures will certainly not carry us further than that. We could then make up our minds whether to cross at Ingrande or Varades. Don’t you think that would be best?” “Certainly,” answered the bewildered Louis. CHAPTER XXV “OÙ PEUT-ON ÊTRE MIEUX QU’AU SEIN DE SA FAMILLE ?” “Où peut-on être mieux qu’au sein de sa famille ? Tout est content, le cœur, les yeux ; Vivons, amis, comme nos bons aieux. Les noms d’époux et de fille sont délicieux.” —Opera of _Lucile_ (words by Marmontel, music by Grétry). “No news, and delay again!” exclaimed Madame de Château-Foix, rising impetuously from her chair as M. des Graves came through the long window into her boudoir. “Antoine tells me now that the Pouzauges diligence has been delayed by an accident on the road, so that the newspaper has not come. It is unbearable!” “Madame,” said the priest, “I am going this afternoon to see old Mère Blandin at La Guyonnière, and I will return by the village and see if the paper has come.” “Pray, Father, do not do anything so foolish!” exclaimed the Marquise sharply, for, as had been anticipated, the priest was now an inmate of the château, and practically in hiding. “I will send Antoine down again shortly.” She paused, sighed, and said: “It is a terrible pity that Gilbert has been so punctilious about the date of his marriage (and that you supported him in it, added her tone). Poor dear Adélaïde d’Aucourt, she little knew what she was doing when she made that stipulation. But for her there would not have been all this anxiety on Lucienne’s behalf—But there,” she added, with a more feeling resentment, “there is always Louis as well. I feel convinced that he is at the bottom of this delay. If I had been consulted a little more——” “Gilbert did his duty in going to Louis’ assistance, Madame,” said the priest gently. “It is not for us to lament over the consequences. Moreover, you have had no bad news.” “No,” said the Marquise, not noticing that he used the second person plural where the first would have seemed more natural. “No, there has been nothing but silence. But that is enough. None, I suppose, but a mother can understand a mother’s anxieties.” She bit her lip. . . . “Are you going immediately, Father? Ask Mère Blandin if she would like me to send her some soup. . . . He is remarkably unconcerned,” thought the Marquise to herself, as the priest passed out into the sunlight. “And yet I am sure that, in his own way, he is very fond of Gilbert.”