I had told my old friend nothing of what concerned Barbara; the secret was not mine; therefore he had nothing against M. de Fontelles; yet it seemed as though a good quarrel could be found on the score of general principles. It is strange how many men give their heads for them and how few can give a reason; but God provides every man with a head, and since the stock of brains will not supply all, we draw lots for a share in it. Yes, a pretty quarrel promised; but a moment later Fontelles, seeing no prospect of sport in falling out with an old man of sacred profession, and amused, in spite of his principles, by the Vicar's whimsical talk, chose to laugh rather than to storm, and said with a chuckle: "Well, kings are like other men." "Very like," agreed the Vicar. "In what can I serve you, sir?" "I seek Mr Simon Dale," answered Fontelles. "Ah, Simon! Poor Simon! What would you with the lad, sir?" "I will tell that to him. Why do you call him poor?" "He has been deluded by a high-sounding prophecy, and it has come to little." The Vicar shook his head in gentle regret. "He is no worse off, sir, than a man who marries," said Fontelles with a smile. "Nor, it may be, than one who is born," said the Vicar, sighing. "Nor even than one who dies," hazarded the Frenchman. "Sir, sir, let us not be irreligious," implored the Vicar, smiling. The quarrel was most certainly over. Fontelles sat down by the Vicar's side. "Yet, sir," said he, "God made the world." "It is full as good a world as we deserve," said the Vicar. "He might well have made us better, sir." "There are very few of us who truly wish it," the Vicar replied. "A man hugs his sin." "The embrace, sir, is often delightful." "I must not understand you," said the Vicar. Fontelles' business was proceeding but slowly. A man on an errand should not allow himself to talk about the universe. But he was recalled to his task a moment later by the sight of my figure a quarter of a mile away along the road. With an eager exclamation he pointed his finger at me, lifted his hat to the Vicar, and rushed off in pursuit. The Vicar, who had not taken his thumb from his page, opened his book again, observing to himself, "A gentleman of some parts, I think." His quarrel with the Vicar had evaporated in the mists of speculation; Fontelles had no mind to lose his complaint against me in any such manner, but he was a man of ceremony and must needs begin again with me much as he had with the Vicar. Thus obtaining my opportunity, I cut across his preface, saying brusquely: "Well, I am glad that it is the King's employment and not M. de Perrencourt's." He flushed red. "We know what we know, sir," said he. "If you have anything to say against M. de Perrencourt, consider me as his friend. Did you cry out to me as I rode last night?" "Why, yes, and I was a fool there. As for M. de Perrencourt----" "If you speak of him, speak with respect, sir. You know of whom you speak."