the young couple ever since their wedding-day.  People observed only that a riper age had strengthened his features, and given more character to his countenance and more development to his powerful figure; also that he had a scar over the right eyebrow, and that he limped slightly.  These were the marks of wounds he had received, he said; which now no longer troubled him.  He appeared anxious to return to his wife and child, but the crowd insisted on hearing the story of his adventures during his voluntary absence, and he was obliged to satisfy them.  Eight years ago, he said, the desire to see more of the world had gained an irresistible mastery over him; he yielded to it, and departed secretly.  A natural longing took him to his birthplace in Biscay, where he had seen his surviving relatives.  There he met the Cardinal of Burgos, who took him into his service, promising him profit, hard knocks to give and take, and plenty of adventure.  Some time after, he left the cardinal’s household for that of his brother, who, much against his will, compelled him to follow him to the war and bear arms against the French.  Thus he found himself on the Spanish side on the day of St. Quentin, and received a terrible gun-shot wound in the leg.  Being carried into a house a an adjoining village, he fell into the hands of a surgeon, who insisted that the leg must be amputated immediately, but who left him for a moment, and never returned.  Then he encountered a good old woman, who dressed his wound and nursed him night and day.  So that in a few weeks he recovered, and was able to set out for Artigues, too thankful to return to his house and land, still more to his wife and child, and fully resolved never to leave them again.

Having ended his story, he shook hands with his still wondering neighbours, addressing by name some who had been very young when he left, and who, hearing their names, came forward now as grown men, hardly recognisable, but much pleased at being remembered.  He returned his sisters’ carresses, begged his uncle’s forgiveness for the trouble he had given in his boyhood, recalling with mirth the various corrections received.  He mentioned also an Augustinian monk who had taught him to read, and another reverend father, a Capuchin, whose irregular conduct had caused much scandal in the neighbourhood.  In short, notwithstanding his prolonged absence, he seemed to have a perfect recollection of places, persons, and things.  The good people overwhelmed him with congratulations, vying with one another in praising him for having the good sense to come home, and in describing the grief and the perfect virtue of his Bertrande.  Emotion was excited, many wept, and several bottles from Martin Guerre’s cellar were emptied.  At length the assembly dispersed, uttering many exclamations about the extraordinary chances of Fate, and retired to their own homes, excited, astonished, and gratified, with the one exception of old Pierre Guerre, who had been struck by an unsatisfactory remark made by his nephew, and who dreamed all night about the chances of pecuniary loss augured by the latter’s return.