"I know it. Fortunately, you are not one of those spiritless women, whose constant anxieties are a torment to their husbands, who love them and suffer through their uneasiness. No, you are brave. You accept with fortitude the conditions that circumstances raise around us, convinced that my conduct is upright. I see you ever serene, and a smile on your lips. I feel refreshed in your wise and sweet tranquility, and gather new strength for the struggle, for the present my life is one continuous struggle. It is a holy struggle, glorious, fruitful ... but it exhausts ... nevertheless, thanks to you, dear Marguerite, I ever find at our hearth the happy quiet, the confident ease that are to the soul what a peaceful sleep is to the body--" "Dear Etienne, we shall speak later on the visit of Dame Petronille," Marguerite broke in, fearing to disturb the rest her husband had come in search of in her company. "You have been announcing a good news.... We are waiting for it." "Yes, I prefer that," answered the provost with a sigh of relief, taking a seat between his wife and Denise, while the latter quietly removed his hat and cloak. "Coming upstairs I told Agnes to place an additional cover at supper." "Will our son return this evening from the Bastille of St. Antoine?" quickly inquired Marguerite. "Was that the good news you brought us? We shall be glad to see him." "No, no! Andre will not return before to-morrow morning. He is to keep watch over night at the Bastille with his company of cross-bowmen. My son must put the example of order in the service. He will neglect none of his duties." "And who is to take supper with us, uncle?" "Why, dear Denise?" answered Marcel smiling. "Who? One of our best friends. Guess, if you can." "Simon the Feather-dealer?... Peter Caillet?... Master Delille?... Philip Giffart?... John Goddard?... Josserand?... John Sorel?..." "No, Denise. Look not for our guest among my friends of the council. He is not yet old enough to figure in such serious functions. But, so as to help you guess, I shall add that our guest for this evening has just arrived from the country." "Can it be my old cousin who lives with his daughter at Vaucouleurs? Can he have left the quiet valley of the Meuse to come and see us?" "No, dear Denise. The friend whom we expect has been away from Paris only a short time. Cudgel your memory." "A short time?" Denise repeated mechanically, and struck by a sudden thought but hardly daring to indulge it, the poor child grew pale, joined her two trembling hands, and fixing upon her uncle a look at once full of anxiety and hope, she stammered: "Uncle, what is it you say? Can it be?..." "I shall add that the fate of that friend has recently made us feel uneasy." "It is he!" cried Denise throwing herself at Marcel's neck. "Can it be?... Jocelyn is back ... God be praised!" "Jocelyn!" exclaimed Marguerite joining in the surprise and joy of Denise. "Have you seen him? Is he in Paris?"