Either pride, distress, or vexation that she could not explain the cause of her embarrassment, or the pain that she felt at the bitter words of Honorât, incited Reine to hold up her head with dignity and say to her betrothed: “You are right, Honorât, let us discontinue such a discussion; it is little worthy of you or of me. Since you judge me so unjustly, since upon the most foolish suspicions you base the most dishonouring accusation, I give your promise back to you, and take back mine.” “Ah! that was your intention, no doubt, mademoiselle. All this has been necessary to force me to give you back your freedom. Ah, well, let it be so! Let all the plans of happiness upon which I have staked my whole life be forgotten; let the dearest wishes of your father and your family be trampled under foot! You have enough influence over the baron to make him yield to your designs. I assure you I will not in any way oppose them.” At this moment, they heard the spurred heels of Raimond V., who precipitately entered, holding a paper in his hand. CHAPTER XV. THE SUMMONS Raimond V. was far too angry to notice the expression of sadness and grief that was depicted on the countenances of the two betrothed. Addressing Honorât, he said, in a loud voice: “Manjour! do you know, forsooth, what Trinquetaille has just informed me? Would you believe, my son, that the citizens of La Ciotat, those vile swine that have fattened on my bounty and that I have saved from the teeth of Barbary dogs, wish to summon me, to-morrow morning, before the overseers of the port, on the matter of our fishery contest! And the abbé pretends that--” Then, returning to the door, the baron called out: “But come on, abbé, where in the devil have you hid yourself?” The good chaplain showed his tall form among the folds of the portière, for he had been discreetly waiting in the antechamber. “The abbé,” continued Raimond V., “pretends that this fine tribunal is sovereign, if you please,--a tribunal composed of old man Cadaou, a fish vender, and some other triton garlic eaters, who hardly own, among them all, one boat or net. Manjour! my children, think of my being placed under a ban by those old scoundrels!” “Monseigneur,” said Abbé Mascarolus, “the decision of the overseers of the port on all matters pertaining to the fisheries is supreme, and without appeal. It has been confirmed by the patent letters of Henry II. in 1537, by Charles IX. in 1564, and by the king, our count, in 1622. It is one of the oldest customs of the Provençal community. There is no instance of a nobleman, priest, or citizen who has set it aside, and, monseigneur--”