“Evidently,” thought the Counsellor to himself, “something unusual has taken place at the Chateau de Champdoce. Was not the opportunity for revenge here?” Long since he had decided that through the son he could strike the father. But he must be cautious. “You must have been up very early, Marquis,” said he. The young man made no reply. “The Duke,” resumed Daumon, “is most fortunate in having such a son as you. I know more than one father who says to his children, ‘See what an excellent example the young Marquis de Champdoce sets to you all. He is not afraid of hard work, though he is noble by birth, and should not soil his hands by labor.’” A sudden lurch brought the Counsellor’s eloquence to a sudden close, but he speedily resumed again. “I was watching you as you hefted the sacks. Heavens! what muscles! what a pair of shoulders!” At any other moment Norbert would have gloried in such laudation, but now he felt displeased and annoyed, and vented his anger by a sharp cut at his team. “When people say that you are as innocent as a girl,” continued Daumon, “I always say that you are a sensible young fellow after all, and that if you choose to lead a regular life, it is far better than wasting your future fortune in wine, billiards, cards, or women.” “I don’t know that I might not do something of the kind,” returned Norbert. “What did you say?” answered his wily companion. “I said that if I were my own master, I would live as other young men.” The lad paused abruptly, and Daumon’s eyes gleamed with joy. “Aha,” murmured he to himself; “I have the game in my own hands. I will teach his Grace to interfere with me.” Then, in a voice which could reach Norbert’s ears, he continued,-- “Of course some parents are far too strict.” An impatient gesture from Norbert showed him that he had wounded him deeply. “Yes, yes,” put in the wily Counsellor, “as the head grows bald, and the blood begins to stagnate, they forget,--they forget the days when all was so different. They forget the time when they were young, and when they sowed their wild oats with so lavish a hand. When your father was twenty-five, he was precious wild. Ask your father, if you do not believe me.” At this moment the wagon passed the cross road, and Norbert pulled up. “I cannot thank you enough, Marquis,” said the Counsellor as he alighted with difficulty; “but if you would condescend to come and taste my brandy, I would esteem it a great honor.”