P.written on their foreheads .-- No, no, let them use me as they list, they shall have my good service at last--and yourself shall see, when you next come under Petit Andre's hands, that he knows how to forgive an injury." So saying, and summing up the whole with a provoking wink, and such an interjectional tchick as men quicken a dull horse with, Petit Andre drew off to the other side of the path, and left the youth to digest the taunts he had treated him with, as his proud Scottish stomach best might.

A strong desire had Quentin to have belaboured him while the staff of his lance could hold together, but he put a restraint on his passion, recollecting that a brawl with such a character could be creditable at no time or place, and that a quarrel of any kind, on the present occasion, would be a breach of duty, and might involve the most perilous consequences.

He therefore swallowed his wrath at the ill timed and professional jokes of Mons.

Petit Andre, and contented himself with devoutly hoping that they had not reached the ears of his fair charge, on which they could not be supposed to make an impression in favour of himself, as one obnoxious to such sarcasms.

But he was speedily roused from such thoughts by the cry of both the ladies at once, to "Look back--look back!--For the love of Heaven look yourself, and us--we are pursued!" Quentin hastily looked back, and saw that two armed men were in fact following them, and riding at such a pace as must soon bring them up with their party.