He's young, and he's got a better policy than yours."
"And he's unmarried, eh!" Barouche remarked. "He's unmarried, and I
suppose that matters!" There was an undercurrent of meaning in his voice
which did not escape Junia.
"And Monsieur Barouche is also unmarried," she remarked. "So you're even
there."
"Not quite even. I'm a widower. The women don't work for me as they
work for him."
"I don't understand," remarked Junia. "The women can't all marry him."
"There are a lot of things that can't be understood by just blinking the
eyes, but there's romance in the fight of an unmarried man, and women
like romance even if it's some one else's. There's sensation in it."
Barouche looked to where Carnac was slowly coming down the centre of the
hall. Women were waving handkerchiefs and throwing kisses towards him.
One little girl was pushed in front of him, and she reached out a hand in
which was a wild rose.
"That's for luck, m'sieu'," she said.
Carnac took the rose, and placed it in his buttonhole; then, stooping
down, he kissed the child's cheek. Outside the hall, Barode Barouche
winked an eye knowingly. "He's got it all down to a science. Look at
him--kissing the young chick. Nevertheless, he's walking into an abyss."
Carnac was near enough now for the confidence in his face to be seen.
Barouche's eyes suddenly grew resentful. Sometimes he had a feeling of
deep affection for his young challenger; sometimes there was a storm of
anger in his bosom, a hatred which can be felt only for a member of one's
own family.
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