Josephine drew back at this brusque reply like a sensitive plant. But she returned to the attack. “But is it not a wife’s duty to be by her husband’s side to look after his comfort--to console him when others vex him--to soothe him when he is harassed?” “Her first duty is to obey him.” “Certainly.” “Well, when I am your husband, I shall bid you stay with your mother and sister while I go to Egypt.” “I shall obey you.” He told her bluntly he thought none the worse of her for making the offer; but should not accept it. Camille Dujardin slept that night at a roadside inn about twelve miles from Beaurepaire, and not more than six from the town where the wedding was to take place next day. It was a close race. And the racers all unconscious of each other, yet spurred impartially by events that were now hurrying to a climax. CHAPTER VII. The next day at sharp nine two carriages were at the door. But the ladies were not ready. Thus early in the campaign did they throw all into disorder. For so nicely had Raynal timed the several events that this threw him all into confusion. He stamped backwards and forwards, and twisted his mustaches, and swore. This enforced unpunctuality was a new torture to him. Jacintha told them he was angry, and that made them nervous and flurried, and their fingers strayed wildly among hooks and eyes, and all sorts of fastenings; they were not ready till half-past nine. Conscious they deserved a scolding, they sent Josephine down first to mollify. She dawned upon the honest soldier so radiant, so dazzling in her snowy dress, with her coronet of pearls (an heirloom), and her bridal veil parted, and the flush of conscious beauty on her cheek, that instead of scolding her, he actually blurted out, “Well! by St. Denis it was worth waiting half an hour for.” He recovered a quarter of an hour by making the driver gallop. Then occasional shrieks issued from the carriage that held the baroness. That ancient lady feared annihilation: she had not come down from a galloping age. They drove into the town, drew up at the mayor’s house, were received with great ceremony by that functionary and Picard, and entered the house. When their carriages rattled into the street from the north side, Colonel Dujardin had already entered it from the south, and was riding at a foot’s pace along the principal street. The motion of his horse now shook him past endurance. He dismounted at an inn a few doors from the mayor’s house, and determined to do the rest of the short journey on foot. The landlord bustled about him obsequiously. “You are faint, colonel; you have travelled too far. Let me order you an excellent breakfast.” “No. I want a carriage; have you one?” “I have two; but, unluckily, they are both engaged for the day, and by people of distinction. Commandant Raynal is married to-day.”