"That is not only an addition, but a modification," said the marquis. Then, after an instant's silence, he added, "Faith! I'll accept that toast! White or tricolor, France is always France!" All the guests touched glasses, and Loriot himself, carried off his balance by the enthusiasm of the marquis, emptied his glass. Once launched in this direction, and moistened abundantly, the conversation became so lively and even vagabond that after the supper was two thirds through, Mary and Bertha, thinking they had better not wait till the end of it, rose from table and passed without remark into the salon. Maître Loriot, who seemed to have come there as much for the daughters as for their father, rose a few moments later and followed them. XXXIII. IN WHICH MAÎTRE LORIOT'S CURIOSITY IS NOT EXACTLY SATISFIED. Maître Loriot profited, as we have said, by the example of the young ladies, and left the marquis and his guests to evoke at ease their memories of the "war of giants." He rose from table and followed the Demoiselles de Souday into the salon. There he advanced toward them, bending almost double, and rubbing his hands. "Ah!" said Bertha; "you seem to be pleased about something, Monsieur le notaire." "Mesdemoiselles," replied Maître Loriot, in a low voice, "I have done my best to second your father's trick. I hope that if need be you will not refuse to certify to the coolness and self-possession I have shown under the circumstances." "What trick do you mean, dear Monsieur Loriot," said Mary, laughing. "Neither Bertha nor I know what you mean." "Good heavens!" said the notary; "I don't know any more than you know, but it seems to me that Monsieur le marquis must have some serious and powerful reasons to treat as old friends, and even better than some old friends are treated, those hateful bullies whom he has admitted to his table. The attentions he is paying to those hirelings of the usurper strike me as very strange, and I fancy they have a purpose." "What purpose?" asked Bertha. "Well, that of filling those fellows' minds with such a sense of security that they will neglect to look after their own safety, and then--taking advantage of their carelessness, to make them share the fate--" "The fate?" "The fate of--" repeated the notary. "The fate of whom?" The notary passed his hand across his throat. "Holofernes, perhaps?" cried Bertha, laughing. "Exactly," said Maître Loriot. Mary joined her sister in the peals of laughter this assurance called forth. The little notary's supposition delighted the sisters beyond measure. "So you assign us the part of Judith!" cried Bertha, endeavoring to check her laughter. "But, mesdemoiselles--"