‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame. "Help!—murder!—thieves!" screamed Mrs.
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