"He--so amiable--so good! alas! he is much to be pitied.

Is he, then, indeed so wretched ?" "Too true," said Laurent, affecting a compassionate air.

"It is said he lives on alms." "You have lied," cried Thomas: "may your tongue be blistered! Pascal is unfortunate; and all has not gone well with him since he met that hurt in the arm, for Franconnette; but he is well again; and, if no envious person injures him, he will recover himself soon; for he has industry and courage." Whoever had looked narrowly would have seen a tear in the eye of Franconnette.
The games begin: they sit in a circle; they play at _cache-couteau_.
Franconnette is challenged by Laurent: he claims the kiss which she has forfeited.

She flies like a bird from the fowler; he pursues; but, when he has nearly reached her, he falls, and has broken his arm.
A sudden gloom succeeds to gaiety; terror takes possession of all.

When suddenly a door opens, and an aged man, whose beard hangs to his girdle, appears.