"Are you not going to Colonel Menard's at all?" inquired the friar. "It would be a great waste of good dancing not to," said the doctor lazily. "But you haven't told me who else has lost a cow or had an increase of goats while I was away." "The death of even a beast excites pity in me." "Yes, you are a holy man. You would rather skin a live Indian than a dead sheep." The doctor tried his violin, and was lifting it again to position when Father Baby remarked:-- "They doubtless told you on the road that a party has come through from Post Vincennes." "Now who would doubtless tell me that?" "The governor's suite, since they must have known it. The party was in almost as soon as you left. Perhaps," suggested the friar, taking a crafty revenge for much insolence, "nobody would mention it to you on account of Monsieur Zhone's sister." The violin bow sunk on the strings with a squeak. "What sister?" "The only sister of Monsieur Reece Zhone, Mademoiselle Zhone, from Wales. She came to Kaskaskia with the party from Post Vincennes." On Dr. Dunlap's face the unshorn beard developed like thorns on a mask of wax. The spirit of manly beauty no longer infused it. "Why didn't you tell me this at first?" he asked roughly. "Is the name of Zhone so pleasant to you?" hinted the shrugging friar. "But take an old churchman's advice now, my son, and make up your quarrel with the lawyer. There will be occasion. That pretty young thing has crossed the sea to die. I heard her cough." The doctor's voice was husky as he attempted to inquire,-- "Did you hear what she was called?" "Mademoiselle Mareea Zhone." The young man sagged forward over his violin. Father Baby began to realize that his revel was over, and reluctantly stuck his toes again into his wooden shoes. "Will you have something to eat and drink before you start?" "I don't want anything to eat, and I am not going to Colonel Menard's to-night." "But, my son," reasoned the staring friar, "are you going to quit your victuals and all good company because one more Zhone has come to town, and that one such a small, helpless creature? Mademoiselle Saucier will be at Menard's." Dr. Dunlap wiped his forehead. He, and not the cool friar, appeared to have been the dancer. A chorus of slaves singing on some neighboring gallery could be heard in the pause of the violin. Beetles, lured by the shop candles, began to explore the room where the two men were, bumping themselves against the walls and buzzing their complaints. "A man is nothing but a young beast until he is past twenty-five years old," said Dr. Dunlap. Father Baby added his own opinion to this general remark.-- "Very often he is nothing but an old beast when you catch him past seventy. But it all depends on what kind of a man he is." "Friar, do you believe in marriage?" "How could I believe in marriage?" "But do you believe in it for other people?" "The Church has always held it to be a sacred institution."