an artillery officer should.”

[50]

“And would you deliberately impose on her innocence in this respect?” asked Monsieur Bouchard, indignantly.

“My dear sir,” calmly replied de Meneval, “you have never been married. If you had, you would not talk about a man’s imposing on his wife’s innocence. Love is clairvoyant, and most men know what their wives wish to believe, and gratify them accordingly. It’s a very complex subject, and needs to be dealt with intelligently.”

[51]“I think our standard of intelligence is not the same,” grimly responded Monsieur Bouchard. “But when I tell Léontine about this nineteen hundred francs due at the Pigeon House, I trust she will be able to deal with you intelligently.”

[51]

“I am afraid she will,” replied de Meneval, with some anxiety; “but after it’s paid I know I can persuade her that it was not the least actual harm—just a little lark in the way of killing time.”

“And may I ask, since you speak so confidently of its being paid, whom do you expect to pay it?”

“You, sir, of course,” replied de Meneval, taking a cigar out of Monsieur Bouchard’s case.

Papa Bouchard jumped as if a hornet had stung him. “I, sir? Since you have assumed this modest expectation, perhaps you anticipate that I will pay it out of my private income?”

“Oh, no, I mean out of my wife’s[52] income,” replied de Meneval, puffing away at his cigar.

[52]

“You are too modest, Monsieur le Capitaine. Now let me tell you this—you misunderstood your customer in bringing this outrageous bill to me, and it won’t be paid. I have a sincere affection for Léontine, and I don’t intend to let any captain of artillery in the French army, husband or no husband, make ducks and drakes of her money.”

Papa Bouchard leaned back, folded his arms and looked the embodiment of statuesque determination. Captain de Meneval puffed a while longer at his cigar, and then rose. There was resolution, as if he still held a trump card to play, written on his countenance.

“Very well, Monsieur Bouchard,” he said, readjusting the blossom in his buttonhole. “I am sorry you are so unyielding. You didn’t ask me if I was 

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