"Did you think so?" said Bonhomme Gagnon. "It was a very friendly salutation, I thought. Strange that we did not see him at the church." "He was there," said Pamphile. "I saw him approaching the carriage of Monsieur Taché as Napoléon and I came up, but immediately he turned away." "We were all looking at you, Monsieur," said Bonhomme Gagnon. "Jean Baptiste is with us all the time, as you know. Yet he also is a fine young man. Some say that he is much interested in Mademoiselle Taché; others say that it is Mademoiselle Laroche whom he favours. Who knows? He confides in nobody. But take care that you do not get in his way, Monsieur Lareau. It would be too dangerous. He is fierce, at times, they say, and strong as a bear." "Let him keep out of my way, then," said Pamphile, with a snarl, "for I am not accustomed to step aside for any man. I have lived too long in the West for that. I, too, might be dangerous, my good friend." Bonhomme Gagnon made no reply, but surreptitiously crossed himself and muttered a prayer for protection against murder and sudden death. *CHAPTER XV* *THE PASTIME OF LOVE* Gabrielle was much offended at the behaviour of Jean Baptiste, not because he had refused to make the sacrifice which she had demanded, but because he had taken her at her word and had not insisted that she change her mind. If he had given up his great enterprise at her bidding she would have loved him less, or not at all. The knight who shunned the battle because of his lady’s tears could never receive the prize of love. But after the battle, or during the intermissions of the conflict, he might at least come to see whether she could not smile through her tears. It was not necessary to choose between love and war when a brave man might have both for the asking. Gabrielle wondered whether all men were as obstinate and as stupid as Jean Baptiste. For his stupidity she could pity him; for his obstinacy she could love him--almost. What an absurd person he was--how foolish, how blind! Who else would have chosen the hot, dusty road, when he might have taken the quiet, wood-land path, a lover’s walk, by her side? Since that afternoon he had been busy, so busy that he had found no time for friendship, no time for love, while the summer was slipping away and the golden days passing, never to return. When the day of love was gone, Jean would regret that he had trampled underfoot the precious jewels of the heart, the true values of life, in his blind pursuit of wealth and worldly success, vanities that could not satisfy the soul.