the world broke over them.

"The next morning the Baron called Garoche to him. The man was like some
mad buck harried by the hounds, and he gnashed his teeth behind his shut
lips. The Baron eyed him curiously, yet kindly, too, as well he might,
for when was ever man to hear such a speech as came to Garoche the
morning after his marriage? 'Garoche,' the Baron said, having waved his
men away, 'as you see, the lady made her choice--and for ever. You and
she have said your last farewell in this world--for the wife of the Baron
of Beaugard can have nothing to say to Garoche the soldier.' At that
Garoche snarled out, 'The wife of the Baron of Beaugard, that is a lie to
shame all hell.' The Baron wound the lash of a riding-whip round and
round his fingers quietly and said: 'It is no lie, my man, but the
truth.' Garoche eyed him savagely, and growled: 'The Church made her my
wife yesterday; and you--you--you--ah, you who had all--you with your
money and place, which could get all easy, you take the one thing I have!
You, the grand seigneur, are only a common robber! Ah, Jesu--if you
would but fight me!'

"The Baron, very calm, said: 'First, Garoche, the lady was only your wife
by a form which the Church shall set aside--it could never have been a
true marriage. Second, it is no stealing to take from you what you did
not have. I took what was mine--remember the glove! For the rest--to
fight you? No, my churl, you know that's impossible. You may shoot me
from behind a tree or a rock, but swording with you--come, come, a pretty
gossip for the Court! Then, why wish a fight? Where would you be, as
you stood before me--you!' The Baron stretched himself up, and smiled
down at Garoche. 'You have your life, man; take it and go--to the
farthest corner of New France, and show not your face here again. If I
find you ever again in Beaugard I will have you whipped from parish to