Again the Chevalier's attention was drawn toward the mutilated hand.

"The pastimes of savages, Monsieur," Brother Jacques said grimly,
holding out his hand for inspection: "the torture of the pipe, which I
stood but poorly. Well, my brother, I am outward bound, and Rouen is
far away. The night is beautiful, for the wind will drive away the
snow-clouds and the stars will shine brightly. Peace be with you."

"I wish you well, Monsieur," returned the Chevalier politely.

Then Brother Jacques left the Candlestick, mounted his mule, and rode
away, caring as little as the Chevalier whether or not their paths
should cross again.

"Monsieur le Marquis!" murmured the Chevalier, staring at the empty
bowl. "So the marquis, my father, gives to the Church? That is droll.
Now, why does the marquis give to the Church? He has me there. Bah!
and this priest's eyes. Ah!" as he saw Madame Boisjoli returning,
followed by Charlot who carried the smoking supper; "here is something
that promises well."

"Brother Jacques is gone?" said madame, her eyes roving.

"Yes." The Chevalier sat down at a table.

"Monsieur Paul?" timidly.

"Well, Mignon?" smiling. Mignon was certainly good to look at.