The baroness was not slow to tumble out upon the floor her peck of troubles. She always had a waggon-load about her. Angelique examined the gown of the marquise with absorbed interest. The baron lectured on affairs, with an occasional raid into his wife's country, to rout her army of Jeremiads. "Figure to yourself, my dear," groaned Madame de Vaux, after a refreshing pinch of snuff, "that though we have had little disturbance here so far, we are surrounded by snakes in the grass. Our Angelique is always doing something for the ungrateful monsters who, when her back's turned, gnash their teeth. All last winter, in spite of the hard times, we distributed broken victuals to the destitute, and they said that the refuse from our table had already been refused by the dogs. Did you ever hear the like? Horrid, spiteful, ungrateful creatures!" "They know no better," replied Angelique, with a contemptuous curl of the lip. "We can afford to laugh at them and their threats when we are conscious of having done our duty." "My brave child!" ejaculated madame with fervour; "what a comfort to be mother of a child who would rise equal to any emergency!" "Noblesse oblige!" snorted the baron, proudly. "We may be poor and compelled to fill ourselves with over much _bouilli_, but our blood is of the ancestral colour. A daughter of yours and mine, madame, would, of course, be equal to an emergency." The sentiment was mighty fine--one that might not be disputed. Clovis languidly bowed and murmured something polite, while Gabrielle yawned behind her fan. Good gracious! Was the intercourse of the new neighbours to consist in mutual admiration of pedigrees? The marquis turned the conversation to his favourite subject. Had the baron, who doubtless was acquainted with matters of current interest, by means of the _Gazette_, at all occupied himself with animal magnetism? With what? A pretty subject for gentlefolk! Rumour had already whispered that the young marquis's pursuits were uncanny. The baron glanced at the baroness, who looked unutterable things, while Angelique detected a shade of sadness flitting over the face of the marquise. "God forbid!" cried the old lady, leaping into the breach, "that we should know aught of devil's sabbats." Clovis laughed, amused. "It is so easy to denounce what we do not comprehend," he observed, demurely. "Some day, when you are howling with pain, we will drive over to Montbazon, and cure you by laying on of hands." Gabrielle frowned. Such an ill-chosen expression, a parody on Holy Writ, or something like it! She began to perceive that it might not be so easy to vanquish Mesmer, and, seeing them as shocked as she was, felt rather anxious to be rid of her guests. "I won't be cured by devils!" stoutly declared the baroness. "I'd rather grin and bear it." "For my part, I care little to inquire into the means, provided that I am cured," civilly remarked Angelique.