the crowning stroke to all his wishes; that he desired the chateau to share his satisfaction by indulging in all kinds of gaieties; and that so far as other matters were concerned they could remain as they were till the return of himself and the countess, which the letter would precede only a few days, as he was going to transport her in a litter for greater safety.  Then followed the specification of certain sums of money to be distributed among the servants.

The servants uttered cries of joy; the marquis and marchioness exchanged a look, but a very troublous one; they, however, restrained themselves so far as to simulate a great satisfaction, and the marquis brought himself to congratulate the servants on their attachment to their master and mistress.  After this they were left alone, looking very serious, while crackers exploded and violins resounded under the windows.  For some time they preserved silence, the first thought which occurred to both being that the count and countess had allowed themselves to be deceived by trifling symptoms, that people had wished to flatter their hopes, that it was impossible for a constitution to change so suddenly after twenty years, and that it was a case of simulative pregnancy.  This opinion gaining strength in their minds made them somewhat calmer.

The next day they took a walk side by side in a solitary path in the park and discussed the chances of their situation.  M. de Saint-Maixent brought before the marchioness the enormous injury which this event would bring them.  He then said that even supposing the news to be true, there were many rocks ahead to be weathered before the succession could be pronounced secure.

“The child may die,” he said at last.

And he uttered some sinister expressions on the slight damage caused by the loss of a puny creature without mind, interest, or consequence; nothing, he said, but a bit of ill-organised matter, which only came into the world to ruin so considerable a person as the marchioness.

“But what is the use of tormenting ourselves?” he went on impatiently; “the countess is not pregnant, nor can she be.”

A gardener working near them overheard this part of the conversation, but as they walked away from him he could not hear any more.

A few days later, some outriders, sent before him by the count, entered the chateau, saying that their master and mistress were close at hand.  In fact, they were promptly followed by brakes and travelling-carriages, and at length the countess’s litter was descried, which M. de Saint-Geran, on horse back, had never lost sight of during the journey.  It was a triumphal reception:  all the peasants had left their work, and filled the air with shouts of welcome; the servants ran to meet their mistress; the ancient retainers wept for joy at seeing the count so happy and in the hope that his noble qualities might be perpetuated in his heir.  The marquis and Madame de Bouille did their best to tune up to the pitch of this hilarity.