himself in France. The baron and baroness, who had made a pretext of
coming to see how the salt harvest throve, were on the jetty, admiring
the silent landscape, where the sea alone sounded the moan of her waves
at regular intervals, where boats and vessels tracked a vast expanse,
and the girdle of green earth richly cultivated, produced an effect
that was all the more charming because so rare on the desolate shores of
ocean.

"Well, my friends, I wanted to see the marshes of Guerande once more
before I die," said the baron to the _paludiers_, who had gathered about
the entrance of the marshes to salute him.

"Can a Guenic die?" said one of them.

Just then the party from Les Touches arrived through the narrow
pathway. The marquise walked first alone; Calyste and Camille followed
arm-in-arm. Gasselin brought up the rear.

"There are my father and mother," said the young man to Camille.

The marquise stopped short. Madame du Guenic felt the most violent
repulsion at the appearance of Beatrix, although the latter was dressed
to much advantage. A Leghorn hat with wide brims and a wreath of
blue-bells, her crimped hair fluffy beneath it, a gown of some gray
woollen stuff, and a blue sash with floating ends gave her the air of a
princess disguised as a milkmaid.

"She has no heart," thought the baroness.

"Mademoiselle," said Calyste to Camille, "this is Madame du Guenic,
and this is my father." Then he said turning to the baron and baroness,
"Mademoiselle des Touches, and Madame la Marquise de Rochefide, _nee_ de
Casteran, father."

The baron bowed to Mademoiselle des Touches, who made a respectful bow,
full of gratitude, to the baroness.

"That one," thought Fanny, "really loves my boy; she seems to thank me
for bringing him into the world."

"I suppose you have come to see, as I have, whether the harvest is a
good one. But I believe you have better reasons for doing so than
I," said the baron to Camille. "You have property here, I think,
mademoiselle."

"Mademoiselle is the largest of all the owners," said one of the
_paludiers_ who were grouped about them, "and may God preserve her to
us, for she's a _good_ lady."

The two parties bowed and separated.

"No one would suppose Mademoiselle des Touches to be more than thirty,"
said the baron to his wife. "She is very handsome. And Calyste prefers
that haggard Parisian marquise to a sound Breton girl!"

"I fear he does," replied the baroness.

A boat was w