Of all the digressions we have indulged in, this is perhaps the most unwarrantable; and, though it has relieved me unspeakably, I hereby tender a certain amount of contrition for the same. _Revenons a nos moutons_--though there was very little of the sheep in the appearance of Jean Duchesne, whose demeanor (when we left him) you will recollect was decidedly aggressive. It was evident that the mule-boy thought mischief was brewing, for he twisted his features--irregular and _tumbled_ enough already--into divers remarkable contortions expressive of remorse and terror. "Who, then, dares to trespass on my lands? Do you think we sow our crops for your cursed mules to trample on?" He spoke in a hoarse, thick voice (suggestive of spirituous liquors), and in the disagreeable Provencal dialect, which must have altered strangely since the time of the _troubadours_: brief as his speech was, it found room for more than one of those expletives which are nowhere so horribly blasphemous as in the south of France. Cecil had started slightly at the first interjection, which broke her day-dream, but she was not otherwise alarmed or discomposed: she seemed to regard the _proprietaire_ simply as an unpleasant obstacle to their progress, and glanced at Mr. Fullarton as if she expected him to clear it away. The latter was not good at French, but he did manage to express their sorrow if they had done any harm unconsciously, and their wish to retire instantly. "Not before paying," was the reply. "_Quinze francs de dedommagemens; et puis, filez aux tous les diables!_" Women are not expected to carry purses or any other objects of simple utility; but why Mr. Fullarton should have left his at home on this particular day is between himself and his own conscience. The party very soon realized the fact that they could muster about a hundred and fifty centimes among them.