M. d’Orbec remained outside the chateau inspecting the fish-ponds.  When they rejoined him he complimented Beauchamp semi-ironically on his choice of the river’s quiet charms in preference to the dusty roads.  Madame de Rouaillout said, ’Come, M. d’Orbec; what if you surrender your horse to M. Beauchamp, and row me back?’ He changed colour, hesitated, and declined he had an engagement to call on M. d’Henriel.

‘When did you see him?’ said she.

He was confused.  ‘It is not long since, madame.’

‘On the road?’

‘Coming along-the road.’

‘And our glove?’

’Madame la Marquise, if I may trust my memory, M. d’Henriel was not in official costume.’

Renee allowed herself to be reassured.

A ceremonious visit that M. Livret insisted on was paid to the chapel of
Diane, where she had worshipped and laid her widowed ashes, which, said
M. Livret, the fiends of the Revolution would not let rest.

He raised his voice to denounce them.

It was Roland de Croisnel that answered:  ’The Revolution was our grandmother, monsieur, and I cannot hear her abused.’

Renee caught her brother by the hand.  He stepped out of the chapel with Beauchamp to embrace him; then kissed Renee, and, remarking that she was pale, fetched flooding colour to her cheeks.  He was hearty air to them after the sentimentalism they had been hearing.  Beauchamp and he walked like loving comrades at school, questioning, answering, chattering, laughing,—­a beautiful sight to Renee, and she looked at Agrnes d’Auffray to ask her whether ‘this Englishman’ was not one of them in his frankness and freshness.

Roland stopped to turn to Renee.  ‘I met d’Henriel on my ride here,’ he said with a sharp inquisitive expression of eye that passed immediately.

‘You rode here from Tourdestelle, then,’ said Renee.

‘Has he been one of the company, marquise?’

‘Did he ride by you without speaking, Roland?’

‘Thus.’  Roland described a Spanish caballero’s formallest salutation, saying to Beauchamp, ’Not the best sample of our young Frenchman;—­woman-spoiled!  Not that the better kind of article need be spoiled by them—­ heaven forbid that!  Friend Nevil,’ he spoke lower, ’do you know, you have something of the prophet in you?  I remember:  much has come true.  An old spoiler of women is worse than one spoiled by them!  Ah, well:  and Madame Culling? and your seven-feet high uncle?  And have you a fleet to satisfy Nevil Beauchamp yet?  You shall see a trial of our new field-guns at Rouen.’

They were separated with difficulty.

Renee wished her brother to come in the boat; and he would have done so, but for his objection to have his Arab bestridden by a man unknown to him.

‘My love is a four-foot, and here’s my love,’ Roland said, going outside the gilt gate-rails to the graceful little beast, that acknowledged his ownership with an arch and swing of the neck round to him.