Two women together are really braver than fifteen separate; but still, most of this tranquillity was merely put on, but so admirably that Edouard Riviere had no chance with them.  He knew nothing about their tremors; all he saw or heard was, a rustle, then a flap on each side of him as of great wings, and two lovely women were upon him with angelic swiftness.  “Ah!” he cried out with a start, and glanced from the first-comer, Rose, to the gate.  But Josephine was on that side by this time, and put up her hand, as much as to say, “You can’t pass here.”  In such situations, the mind works quicker than lightning.  He took off his hat, and stammered an excuse—­“Come to look at the oak.”  At this moment Rose pounced on the purse, and held it up to Josephine.  He was caught.  His only chance now was to bolt for the mark and run; but it was not the notary, it was a novice who lost his presence of mind, or perhaps thought it rude to run when a lady told him to stand still.  All he did was to crush his face into his two hands, round which his cheeks and neck now blushed red as blood.  Blush? they could both see the color rush like a wave to the very roots of his hair and the tips of his fingers.

The moment our heroines, who, in that desperation which is one of the forms of cowardice, had hurled themselves on the foe, saw this, flash—­the quick-witted poltroons exchanged purple lightning over Edouard’s drooping head, and enacted lionesses in a moment.

It was with the quiet composure of lofty and powerful natures that Josephine opened on him.  “Compose yourself, sir; and be so good as to tell us who you are.”  Edouard must answer.  Now he could not speak through his hands; and he could not face a brace of tranquil lionesses:  so he took a middle course, removed one hand, and shading himself from Josephine with the other, he gasped out, “I am—­my name is Riviere; and I—­I—­ladies!”

“I am afraid we frighten you,” said Josephine, demurely.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Rose, majestically; “we are not very angry, only a little curious to know why you water our flowers with gold.”

At this point-blank thrust, and from her, Edouard was so confounded and distressed, they both began to pity him.  He stammered out that he was so confused he did not know what to say.  He couldn’t think how ever he could have taken such a liberty; might he be permitted to retire? and with this he tried to slip away.

“Let me detain you one instant,” said Josephine, and made for the house.

Left alone so suddenly with the culprit, the dignity, and majesty, and valor of Rose seemed to ooze gently out; and she stood blushing, and had not a word to say; no more had Edouard.  But he hung his head, and she hung her head.  And, somehow or other, whenever she raised her eyes to glance at him, he raised his to steal a look at her, and mutual discomfiture resulted.

This awkward, embarrassing delirium was interrupted by Josephine’s return.  She now held another purse in her hand, and quietly poured the rest of the coin into it.  She then, with a blush, requested him to take back the money.