was sad. Few days went by when he did
not cry in secret, for his wife, and although loneliness began to weigh
on him, he was more afraid of entering into a new marriage than desirous
of finding a support in his sorrow. He had a vague idea that love might
have consoled him by coming to him of a sudden, for this is the only way
love can console. We never find it when we seek it; it comes over us
unawares.

This cold-blooded scheme of marriage that Father Maurice had opened to
him, this unknown woman he was to take for his bride, perhaps even all
that had been said to him of her virtue and good sense, made him pause
to think. And he went away musing as men do whose thoughts are too few
to divide into hostile factions, not scraping up fine arguments for
rebellion and selfishness but suffering from a dull grief, submissive to
ills from which there is no escape.

Meanwhile, Father Maurice had returned to the farm, while Germain,
between sunset and dark, spent the closing hour of the day in repairing
gaps the sheep had made in the hedge of a yard near the farm-buildings.
He lifted up the branches of the thorn-bushes and held them in place
with clods of earth, whilst the thrushes chattered in the neighboring
thicket and seemed to call to him to hurry, for they were eager to come
and see his work as soon as he had gone.

IV -- Mother Guillette

FATHER MAURICE found at his house an old neighbor who had come to talk
with his wife, seeking at the same time to secure a few embers to light
her fire. Mother Guillette lived in a wretched hut two gunshots away
from the farm. Still she was a willing and an orderly woman. Her poor
dwelling was clean and neat, and the care with which her clothes were
mended showed that she respected herself in the midst of her penury.

"You have come to fetch your evening fire, Mother Guillette," said the
old man to her. "Is there anything else you want?"

"No, Father Maurice," answered she; "nothing for the present. I am no
beggar, as you know, and I take care not to abuse the kindness of my
friends."

"That is very true. Besides, your friends are always ready to do you a
service."

"I was just talking to your wife, and I was asking her if Germain had
finally decided to marry again."

"You are no gossip," replied Father Maurice; "we can talk in your
presence without having any foolish tale-bearing to fear. So I will tell
my wife and you that Germain has made up his mind absolutely. To-mor