He had scarcely given utterance to this philanthropical wish when the door-bell gave another loud peal, and a moment afterwards the uncle and nephew saw the young Duc de Senneterre coming down the garden walk preceded by Madame Barbancon, who was in such a state of mental perturbation that she had entirely forgotten to remove her big kitchen apron. CHAPTER III. THE DINNER IN THE ARBOUR. The Duc de Senneterre, who was about Olivier Raymond's age, had a distinguished bearing, and an exceedingly handsome and attractive face, with black hair and moustache, and eyes of a deep rich blue. His attire was marked with an elegant simplicity. "Uncle, this is Gerald, my best friend, of whom I have so often spoken," said Olivier. "I am delighted to see you, monsieur," said the veteran, cordially offering his hand to his nephew's friend. "And I, commander," rejoined Gerald, with that deference to age which is imbibed from prolonged military service, "am sincerely glad to have the honour of pressing your hand. I know all your goodness to Olivier, and as I regard him almost as a brother, you must understand how thoroughly I have always appreciated your devotion to him." "Gentlemen, will you have your soup in the house or under the arbour, as you usually do when the weather is fine?" inquired Madame Barbancon. "We will dine in the arbour--if the commander approves, my dear Madame Barbancon," responded Gerald; "it will be charming; the afternoon is perfect." "Monsieur knows me?" exclaimed the housekeeper, looking first at Olivier, and then at the duke, in great astonishment. "Know you, Madame Barbancon?" exclaimed Gerald, gaily. "Why, hasn't Olivier spoken of you a hundred times while we were in camp, and haven't we had more than one quarrel all on your account?" "On my account?" "Most assuredly. That rascal of an Olivier is a great Bonapartist, you know. He cannot forgive any one for detesting that odious tyrant, and I took your part, for I, too, abhor the tyrant--that vile Corsican ogre!" "Corsican ogre! You are a man after my own heart, monsieur. Let us shake hands--we understand each other," cried the housekeeper, triumphantly. And she extended her bony hand to Gerald, who shook it heartily, at the same time remarking to the commander: "Upon my word, sir, you had better take care, and you, too, Olivier, will have to look out now. Madame Barbancon had no one to help her before, now she will have a sturdy auxiliary in me." "Look here, Madame Barbancon," exclaimed Olivier, coming to the rescue of his friend whom the housekeeper seemed inclined to monopolise, "Gerald must be nearly famished, you forget that. Come, I'll help you bring the table out here." "True, I had forgotten all about dinner," cried the housekeeper, hastening towards the house. Seeing Olivier start after her, as if to aid her, Gerald said: "Wait a moment, my dear fellow, do you suppose I'm going to leave all the work to you?" Then turning to the commander: