r; what is the good of it?"

"Oh, of course, there is no good; but how can you help it when you have
troubles? Yet Heaven knows that you have not lacked them, my little
girl; for you have not always been happy."

"It is true that my mother and I have suffered. We have had sorrows, but
we have never lost heart."

"I should never lose heart, no matter how hard my work was," said
Germain, "but poverty would make me very sad; for I have never wanted
for anything. My wife made me rich, and I am rich still; I shall be
so as long as I work on the farm; and that will be always, I hope. But
everybody must suffer his share! I have suffered in another way."

"Yes; you have lost your wife. That is very sad."

"Is n't it?"

"Oh! Germain, I have wept for her many a time. She was so very kind! But
don't let us talk about her longer, for I shall burst out crying. All my
troubles are ready to come back to me to-day."

"It is true, she loved you dearly, little Marie. She used to make a
great deal of you and your mother. Are you crying? Come, my girl, I
don't want to cry...."

"But you are crying, Germain! You are crying as hard as I. Why should
a man be ashamed to weep for his wife? Don't let me trouble you. That
sorrow is mine as well as yours."

"You have a kind heart, Marie, and it does me good to weep with you. Put
your feet nearer the fire; your skirts are all soaked, too, poor little
girl. I am going to take your place by the boy. You move nearer the
fire."

"I am hot enough," said Marie; "and if you wish to sit down, take a
corner of the cloak. I am perfectly comfortable."

"The truth is that it is not so bad here," said Germain, as he sat down
beside her. "Only I feel very hungry again. It is almost nine o'clock,
and I have had such hard work in walking over these vile roads that I
feel quite tired out. Are you not hungry, too, little Marie?"

"I?--not at all. I am not accustomed like you to four meals a day, and
I have been to bed so often without my supper that once more does not
trouble me."

"A woman like you is very convenient; she costs nothing," said Germain,
smiling.

"I am not a woman," exclaimed Marie, naively, without perceiving the
direction the husbandman's ideas had taken. "Are you dreaming?"

"Yes, I believe I must be dreaming," answered Germain. "Perhaps hunger
is making my mind wander."

"How greedy you are," answered she, brightening in her turn. "Well, if
you can't live five or six hours wi