"Then I pray you undo the tacking. Remember how sad a place Morvaix must ever be in my memory."
"Sad?" exclaimed Lucette. "Monsieur!"
"I mean because of my many bereavements here."
"Bereavements, monsieur?" said Gabrielle, with a frown of perplexity.
"Bereavements truly; what else? 'Twas here in Morvaix I lost my wife, after a union of but a few minutes; and after that my newly betrothed was snatched from me by inexorable fate."
They both laughed, and Lucette said—
"Then you are desolate?"
"In truth could I be otherwise? I am always, and in earnest what Gerard was in masquerade for a few hours—a courier of fortune; and without the hope that the fortune I chased may prove as charming and delightful."
"I would you could have stayed, monsieur; and I thank you for your pretty compliments," said Gabrielle, smiling and blushing.
"You go to Paris, monsieur, I understand," said Lucette. "Doubtless there you will find consolation."
"In Paris there may be distractions, even if not consolation," he answered gaily.
"Try to persuade him to remain, Lucette," said Gabrielle, going into the house.
"Why will you not remain, M. Pascal?" asked Lucette half nervously and more seriously than usual with her.
"Is not the answer there, with her, Lucette, and here perhaps with you?" He spoke lightly, but his eyes were serious.
"I am not sure that I understand you."
"And I am sure there is no need that you should. They will be a happy pair, I hope with all my heart; as I hope indeed that you will be happy with M. St. Jean—
