“Well, there they are--the second victory in one day and what a victory! Goodness how easy it is to get the better of people! A little audacity, a clear head, careful reasoning, and a firm resolve to go as straight as an arrow to your goal, and obstacles clear out of your way of themselves. Beaumagnan is a smart chap, isn’t he? Well, he crumpled up just as you did, my pretty Josine. Your pupil does you honor, doesn’t he? Two first-class masters, Beaumagnan and Cagliostro’s daughter smashed and pulverized in one day by a collegian! What do you think of that, Josine?” He paused in his pæan to say: “You’re not angry with me for rubbing it in like this?” “No, no,” she said, smiling at him. “And you’re not angry about that little business at Bridget Rousselin’s?” “Don’t you ask too much of me,” she warned him. “It’s better not to wound my pride. I’ve plenty of it and I’m vindictive. But after all one can’t go on being angry with you for long. There’s something peculiar about you which disarms one.” “Beaumagnan isn’t disarmed, I’ll be hanged if he is,” he said thoughtfully. “Beaumagnan is a man,” she said. “Well, I will make war on men; and I really believe that that’s what I’m cut out for, for conquest, for the extraordinary and the fabulous. I feel that there is no situation from which I cannot emerge with honor. And it is tempting to fight when one is sure of victory, isn’t it, Josine?” Along the narrow streets on the left bank of the Seine the cab made its way at a good pace. They crossed the river. “And from to-day I shall be victorious, Josine! I have all the trumps in my hand. In a few hours I reach Lillebonne. I unearth the Widow Rousselin, and, whether she like it or not, I examine the sandalwood casket on which the key-word is carved; and there we are. With that word and with the names of the seven abbeys, it will indeed be odd if I don’t carry off the cup!” Josephine laughed at his enthusiasm. He was exultant. He told her about his duel with Beaumagnan, kissed her, cocked snooks at the people they passed, opened the window and jeered at the cabman because his horse trotted like a snail. “Make him gallop, old idiot! What? You have the honor of driving in your chariot the god of Fortune and the queen of beauty and your steed doesn’t gallop!” The cab went along the Avenue de l’Opéra. It took the short-cut through the Rue des Petit-Champs and the Rue des Capucines. In the Rue Caumartin the horse did break into a gallop. “Splendid!” cried Ralph. “Twelve to five; and we’re nearly there. Of course it’s understood that you come with me to Lillebonne?” “Whatever for? There’s no point in it. It’s sufficient for one of us to go,” she replied. “As you like,” said Ralph. “You trust me and you know that I shall not betray that trust and that we are allies--the victory of the one is the victory of the other.”