Arthur embraced him again, but there was something convulsive in his action.
"What! it is you, you that I have here in my arms! But it can't be!"
"It is as plain as can be; I am on my way to Bayeux to spend the summer."
"But, uncle, I am just come"
"From a visit to me, you were going to say? They have been burying poor Dubois, my neighbor, whom you have seen at my house so many times."
"What! then it was not you?"
"I? What do you mean?"
"I have been lamenting you and shedding tears for you for the last four hours."
The uncle burst out into a great fit of laughter.
"I am going to Bayeux to attend the wedding of your cousin!"
"Which cousin?"
"The daughter of your mother's sister, my second sister; she has been living with me during the past year."
"Aunt Marthe's daughter?"
"Exactly; she does not know her future husband, but I have arranged it all by letter; she will be very happy."
The postilion had finished his repairs; the uncle took his place in the chaise and said:
"Kiss your cousin's hand, whom you will never see again, in all probability, for her husband means to live upon his property, where he is making improvements."
Arthur kissed a little hand that emerged from the window of the chaise upon the bidding of the uncle,
