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Never once did Lacaze lose his temper. Better for his wife if he had. Instead, he smiled a quiet smile, set his strong teeth and—stuck to his spurs. After a month or two his heels developed new muscles and stopped aching. From then on, the blood upon his rowels was never dry.

Her spirit had to be broken. Well, that was easy enough. It had been done before. A pair of aching heels, however, had to be paid for. Lacaze determined to break his wife’s spirit by eighths of an inch.

Fortune favours the brute.

Nine months after their marriage, a pair of spurs of a sharpness he could never have compassed fell into his lap.

A letter arrived for Madeleine while she and Lacaze sat at meat. It came from her brother Jean.

Dearest Madeleine,

I write to say that René Dudoy has taken a job in Paris. It is a good thing for him, but he will be lonely. He has said absolutely that he will not go to see you. I expect you can guess why. But we have told him not to be silly, and that you will be a good friend, if you can be nothing else. We think you would have wished us to do this. It is true, is it not? If so, look him up. His address will be 66 rue Castetnau.