"And do you know what monsieur was telling me?... That he has turned out very badly--our Dastarac.... There is a story of very unsavory debts, embezzlement, and false securities. In short, he has been put out of the University and compelled to run away to Belgium.... M. Boerzell will explain this to you better than I could." The young savant told all the details of the affair. "Well!... A pretty gentleman!..." exclaimed the young girl in a tone of burning contempt when Boerzell had finished. "Nothing surprises me from that fellow!" declared M. Raindal. "Just the same, we owe M. Gaussine a fine debt of gratitude!" He did not complain that day of the length of the hours. Comforting thoughts occupied him until dinner-time. So far he had never dared, under any circumstances, to sound Thérèse concerning the visits of Boerzell. He stood in fear of reprisals and oft-repeated conventional inquiries concerning the Chambannes' household. However, now that Dastarac seemed to be annihilated, crushed as it were, to the disgust of Thérèse herself, why should not the sympathy which he noticed existed between the young people follow its normal course? Why should they not, from being comrades, become husband and wife? And then, besides the joy of getting his daughter married, what an opportunity for the master, and what a liberation! No one would remain as a witness of his outings but Mme. Raindal who, entirely occupied with her religious duties, was an easy-going woman totally without severity, provided her faith was not interfered with. No longer any control; no more watch set on him; no further need to invent new lies or preserve silence! M. Raindal promised himself that he would keep his eye on this affair with caution and diplomacy so as not to spoil it. Yet an oft-recurrent anxiety seized him again after dinner. He was thinking of the summer and the forthcoming vacation, those three months which he would, doubtless, have to spend far away from Mme. Chambannes. As he recollected his impatience, his recent fears during one single month of privation, he felt a sudden sensation of choking anguish. Where would she go? To what seashore or mountain resort? How many miles away would she be? And with whom? He had discreetly put these questions in the course of many lessons given to his little pupil. She had replied vaguely. She affected not to have made up her mind yet and to be still hesitating between Les Frettes, the seaside, Switzerland or some watering-place. She would decide on her choice at the time of a certain trip which George was shortly to make to Bosnia. She sighed as she said that. A melancholy shadow veiled the tenderness of her eyes. She turned the conversation to another subject.