ore positively because I knew nothing of the world.

"Cousin Philippe said I must go to France, for Paul's sake, and appeal
myself to the empress, who has great influence over the emperor. His
command was to go at once."

"Madame, you cannot go in midwinter."

"Must I go at all?" she cried out passionately. "Why don't you tell me a
De Ferrier shall not crawl the earth before a Bonaparte! You--of all
men! We are poor and exiles because we were royalists--are royalists--we
always shall be royalists! I would rather make a wood-chopper of Paul
than a serf to this Napoleon!"

She checked herself, and motioned to a chair.

"Sit down, monsieur. Pardon me that I have kept you standing."

I placed the chair for her, but she declined it, and we continued to
face each other.

"Madame," I said, "you seem to blame me for something. What have I
done?"

"Nothing, monsieur."

"I will now ask your advice. What do you want me to do that I have not
done?"

"Monsieur, you are doing exactly what I want you to do."

"Then you are not displeased with me?"

"I am more pleased with you every time I see you. Your advice is good. I
cannot go in midwinter."

"Are you sure your cousin wanted you to make this journey?"

"The notary says so in this letter. Philippe died in the farm-house of
one of our peasants, and the new masters could not refuse him burial in
the church where De Ferriers have lain for hundreds of years. He was
more fortunate than my father."

This interview with Madame de Ferrier in which I cut so poor a figure,
singularly influenced me. It made me restless, as if something had
entered my blood. In January the real spring begins, for then sap
starts, and the lichens seem to quicken. I felt I was young, and rose up
against lessons all day long and part of the night. I rushed in haste to
the woods or the frozen lake, and wanted to do mighty deeds without
knowing what to undertake. More than anything else I wanted friends of
my own age. To see Doctor Chantry dozing and hear him grumbling, no
longer remained endurable; for he reminded me that my glad days were due
and I was not receiving them. Worse than that, instead of proving
grateful for all his services, I became intolerant of his opinion.

"De Chaumont will marry her," he said when he heard of Madame de
Ferrier's widowhood. "She will never be obliged to sue to the
Bonapartes. The count is as fond of her as he is of his daughter."

"Must a woman marry a succe