"It would be a fine place for that son of yours, Madame Barbeau, that Napoléon with whom I used to play. What? Here? Is this my little Napoléon? _Mon Dieu_, how you have grown! What changes come while one is away! You must be twenty-four at the very least. Still with papa and mama? All the rest gone away? Well, somebody must stay behind to take care of the farm, the cows, the pigs. It is amusing, feeding pigs. What appetites they have, what sweet voices, what gratitude! And how they love to be scratched! Ha! Ha! The pleasures of country life! Nothing like that in Nevada. "You would return with me, Napoléon? Well, old man, that will not be hard to arrange. I am going back, of course, yet since yesterday I have had other thoughts. I have allowed myself to dream. Yes, Madame, I am still unmarried, an old bachelor, almost. There, the cat is out of the bag. The young ladies of Nevada do not suit me exactly. They have their merits, no doubt, but as to the figure, as to the complexion, as to the temper, as to the accomplishments of the housekeeper, they are not in the same class, I will say, with the young ladies of Quebec, of Beauport, of St. Placide. But tell me, Napoléon, who is that fine-looking man over there in the carriage, he with the grey hair? Monsieur Taché? Ah, I thought so. And that glorious blonde? Mademoiselle Gabrielle? Gabrielle? I do not seem to remember. Ah, I have it. The little friend of Jean Baptiste. There, the events unfold, the secrets are revealed. It is fate, without a doubt. Napoléon, old man, present me. _Au revoir_, Monsieur, Madame, my friends." "Monsieur Taché," said Napoléon Barbeau, as he and Pamphile, hat in hand, approached the carriage; "Monsieur and Mademoiselle, I have the honour to present to you an old schoolfellow, Monsieur Pamphile Lareau, of Elko, Nevada." "Much pleased, I am sure," said Monsieur Taché. "I remember you, I think, on account of some boyish prank of former days. But what of that? The follies of that age are gone. Come to see us, Monsieur Lareau, during the week." "I will come to-morrow, Monsieur Taché, with your permission and that of Mademoiselle." Monsieur Taché smiled. "To-morrow if you wish, Monsieur the stranger. We shall be glad to see you. _Au revoir_, Monsieur." A little later, as Pamphile drove past the Giroux place, he saw Jean Baptiste in the yard unharnessing his horse. "_Holà_, Jean Baptiste! _Holà_, little priest!" he called, in a tone of elation. Jean raised his hat and smiled as the buggy drove by. In that smile Bonhomme and Madame Gagnon observed only the friendly greeting of a good neighbour; Mère Tabeau perceived the good-humoured toleration of a superior being; but Pamphile saw the confidence of a declared enemy and the menace of a threat half-revealed. "It is chilly at present," he murmured. "The sun has gone behind a cloud. Or was it the manner of Jean Baptiste--a little frigid, perhaps?"