‘And so it’s all to end in a picnic,’ said M. le Cure, with evident disgust.

It appeared from Michel’s description of what had taken place during that very long interview that Adrian Urmand had at last become quite gentle and confidential.  In what way could he be let down the most easily?  That was the question for the answering which these two heads were kept together in conference so long.  How could it be made to appear that the betrothal had been annulled by mutual consent?  At last the happy idea of a picnic occurred to Michel himself.  ‘I never thought about the time of the year,’ he said; ’but when friends are here and we want to do our best for them, we always take them to the ravine, and have dinners on the rocks.’  It had seemed to him, and as he declared to Urmand also, that if something like a jubilee could be got up before the young man’s departure, it would appear as though there could not have been much disappointment.

‘We shall all catch our death of cold,’ said Madame Voss.

‘We needn’t stay long, you know,’ said Michel.  ‘And, Marie,’ said he, going into the little office in which his niece was still seated, ‘Marie, mind you behave yourself.’

‘O, I will, Uncle Michel,’ she said.  ‘You shall see.’

CHAPTER XXI.

They all sat down together at supper that evening, Marie dispensing her soup as usual before she went to the table.  She sat next to her uncle on one side, and below her there were vacant seats.  Urmand took a chair on the left hand of Madame Voss, next to him was the Cure, and below the Cure the happy rival.  It had all been arranged by Marie herself, with the greatest care.  Urmand seemed to have got over the worst of his trouble, and when Marie came to the table bowed to her graciously.  She bowed in return, and then eat her soup in silence.  Michel Voss overdid his part a little by too much talking, but his wife restored the balance by her prudence.  George told them how strong the French party was at Colmar, and explained that the Germans had not a leg to stand upon as far as general opinion went.  Before the supper was over, Adrian Urmand was talking glibly enough; and it really seemed as though the terrible misfortunes of the Lion d’Or would arrange themselves comfortably after all.  When supper was done, the father, son, and the discarded lover smoked their pipes together amicably in the billiard room.  There was not a word said then by either of them in connection with Marie Bromar.

On the next morning the sun was bright, and the air was as warm as it ever is in October.  The day, perhaps, might not have been selected for an out-of-doors party had there been no special reason for such an arrangement; but seeing how strong a reason existed, even Madame Voss acknowledged that the morning was favourable.  While those pipes of peace were being smoked over night, Marie had been preparing the hampers.