“No. But the next prohibition is of another kind, Nicolas. You will be presented to somebody in the _château_; it is a young girl I rescued....” I made a movement of surprise, and Lerne guessed my imputation. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “she is like a daughter--nothing more. But her friendship is precious to me, and it would be painful to me to see it lessened by a sentiment which I can no longer inspire. In short, Nicolas,” he said quickly and with a certain shamefacedness, “I ask you to swear not to pay court to my _protégée_.” Astounded at such a degraded view, and still more so at such a want of delicate feeling, I told myself, however, that there is no jealousy without love any more than there is smoke without fire. “What do you take me for, uncle? It is sufficient that I am your guest.” “All right--I know my physiology and how to use it. May I trust you? You swear it? Very well.” “As for her,” he added with a crafty smile, “I am easy for the time being. She has lately seen my way of treating suitors. I advise you not to make trial of it.” Having got up, with his hands in his pockets, and his pipe between his teeth, Lerne looked me up and down in a jocular and provocative manner. This physiologist inspired me with an unconquerable aversion. We continued our walk round the park. “Ah, by the way, do you know German?” said the Professor. “No, uncle; I only understand French and Spanish.” “No English either? That’s not much for a future merchant prince. You have not been taught much, I _fear_.” “Tell that to the Marines, uncle,” said I to myself. “I had begun to keep wide open those eyes you commanded me to keep shut, and I saw just then that your satisfied expression gave your words the lie.” We reached the end of the park by way of the foot of the cliffs and came in front of the _château_ which seemed stretching its two wings towards us and dominating the underwood with its ruinous _façade_. And it was at this exact moment that my eye was caught by an abnormal bird, a pigeon, which was wheeling in the air, and flew upwards with ever-narrowing and giddy circles. “Just look at those roses on that long branch of briar; they are pretty and interesting,” said my uncle. “Left to grow wild, they have become dog-roses again.” “What a curious pigeon!” I said. “Just look at those flowers,” insisted Lerne. “One would think there was a drop of lead in its head. That happens sometimes when one is out shooting. It will tower and tower, and then fall from as high as possible.” “If you don’t watch your feet, you will fall head over heels into the thorn-bushes. It’s a breakneck place, this, nephew.” This useful bit of counsel was growled out in a menacing tone that sounded strangely out of place. Then the bird attained the center of its spiral and began not to mount, but to come down with wild tumblings, and whirling over and over. It hit a rock not far from us and fell, an inert thing, into the thick herbage.