"What a question!" exclaimed Blanchette, with indignation. "The young Apollo wishes an enumeration of his virtues, evidently. Well, he shall not have it from me. I have given you my opinion, have I not? As for reasons, I will merely say, as other women do: because. Is that sufficient?" "It must be, since you say so; and I thank you more than I can tell. And now I must leave you, I fear. There is work to do at the place--especially since the fire. We are making a new start, you know. Good-bye, Blanchette, I am glad that you were here." "Must you go, Jean?" "Yes. The sun is rising high, as you see. _Au revoir_, Blanchette." "Wait a moment, Jean. Do not return by the path. Take the road, rather." "Why then? It is much shorter by the path, and I must hasten. Good-bye again." "Jean!" "What is it, Blanchette?" "Do not go that way." "But why not!" "Because." "Because? You are laughing at me." "No laughing matter, Jean. Do not go, I say." "Blanchette, this is too foolish. I will go, of course." "There may be danger." "Danger?" "Yes. Now I have said it. There is danger, Jean." "That is interesting. Now I shall certainly go. I should like very much to find a little danger, to begin the day. Life was becoming too monotonous, altogether. Where is the danger, Blanchette?" "In the glen, Jean, where the path crosses the little stream. Ah, now I have told you, and you will go. I do not wish you to be killed, Jean." "Killed? Who would kill me, and why!" "They do not wish to kill you, but merely to punish you." "Punish me? That is good. But who, then?" "Tom Sullivan and Paddy Brady." "Ha! Ha! They have tried it before." "And Pamphile." "_Hein_? Three of them? Well, we must see about that. _Au revoir_, Blanchette. I shall be all right." "Jean!" "What then?" "Do not kill him." "Certainly not. Reassure yourself, Blanchette. Nobody will be killed." "Jean! Jean!" called Blanchette, in distress; but he was already out of sight, hastening with eager steps toward the place of danger. At the stream he stopped and looked about in all directions, but could see no one; and was passing along, disappointed but watchful, on the other side, where the path skirted a great rock, when two men stepped out and stood facing him in the middle of the way. They were Tom Sullivan and Pamphile Lareau. "Good morning, gentlemen," said Jean, without slackening his pace, but turning aside to give them the path. "Not so fast," said Pamphile, placing himself directly in front of Jean. "Stop a moment, if you please. We wish to talk to you." "Certainly," replied Jean, stopping within arm’s length of the two men, and measuring them with his eye. "But you will first throw away that pistol, my friend. You will not need it, I assure you." "No, we shall not need it," said Pamphile, with a harsh laugh, throwing the weapon aside. "Two to one are odds enough, Jean Baptiste."