“Have you finished with your proverbs, which have no meaning whatever?” exclaimed Baradier, exasperated by his brother-in-law’s optimism. “Without so much palaver, all that is needed is to give Baudoin permission to summon the police in case he sees anything suspicious in Marcel’s surroundings. For my part, I have more confidence in armed might than in providence.” “If you are interrupting me to say such nonsense,” replied Graff, “you might have held your peace. Let Marcel work on. The sooner he has finished the sooner he will be out of danger. Until that time, Baudoin, I entrust him to your care.” “Do not be uneasy, Monsieur Graff. I will answer for him with my life. Besides, I am not trusting in myself alone. I am going to send for a companion, who in himself is worth a score of men. I need say no more. Trust to me.” “Yes, my brave fellow, I will trust to you,” said Baradier. “Very good,” said Baudoin, rubbing his hands. “Have you any message to send to M. Marcel?” “Tell him to be very careful; give him our best love, and ask him to think of us at times.” “By-the-bye, have you any money for the journey?” “I have all I need, sir, thank you. Your servant, sir. _Au revoir_!” Bowing, he left the room. Father and uncle remained behind, silent and grave, plunged in reverie. After a time Graff stood up and said— “Nothing ill will happen. Of that I am sure. I feel it. You know I am never mistaken. In business, every time we have had a loss I have always had a very clear intuition of it beforehand. Be assured, Baradier, we shall come out of it without loss or damage.” The anxious father replied— “Heaven grant you may be right! But so long as there is a woman in it I cannot be at rest concerning Marcel. Ah! if it were only you or I, there would be no danger. But this young madman!” “The oldest are not always the wisest. Look at Trémont.” “Well, well. It is all in God’s hands!” Holding out his hand to his brother-in-law— “We will have no more quarrels; they serve no useful purpose, and only cause us pain!” “Ah! Speak to me as harshly as you like!” exclaimed Graff, greatly moved. “It does not hurt me, and it relieves you! But be careful to say nothing to your wife. There is no occasion that she should worry herself about the matter.” They left the office, and, as they crossed the court they saw Baudoin, portmanteau in hand, starting off, with alert and happy step, for the station. PART II CHAPTER I ARS is a small town of six thousand inhabitants, a distance of four leagues from Troyes. On the manly declivities to the South stretch miles upon miles of vineyards. The mineral springs of Ars are distant half a mile from the town, on the road to Lusigny, as is also the thermal establishment.