eature, who is neither man nor woman, who
smokes like an hussar, writes like a journalist, and has at this very
moment in her house the most venomous of all writers,--so the postmaster
says, and he's a _juste-milieu_ man who reads the papers. They are even
talking about her at Nantes. This morning the Kergarouet cousin who
wants to marry Charlotte to a man with sixty thousand francs a year,
went to see Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel, and filled her mind with tales
about Mademoiselle des Touches which lasted seven hours. It is now
striking a quarter to ten, and Calyste is not home; he is at Les
Touches,--perhaps he won't come in all night."

The baroness listened to the rector, who was substituting monologue for
dialogue unconsciously as he looked at this lamb of his fold, on whose
face could be read her anxiety. She colored and trembled. When the
worthy man saw the tears in the beautiful eyes of the mother, he was
moved to compassion.

"I will see Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel to-morrow," he said. "Don't be too
uneasy. The harm may not be as great as they say it is. I will find
out the truth. Mademoiselle Jacqueline has confidence in me. Besides,
Calyste is our child, our pupil,--he will never let the devil inveigle
him; neither will he trouble the peace of his family or destroy the
plans we have made for his future. Therefore, don't weep; all is not
lost, madame; one fault is not vice."

"You are only informing me of details," said the baroness. "Was not I
the first to notice the change in my Calyste? A mother keenly feels the
shock of finding herself second in the heart of her son. She cannot
be deceived. This crisis in a man's life is one of the trials of
motherhood. I have prepared myself for it, but I did not think it would
come so soon. I hoped, at least, that Calyste would take into his heart
some noble and beautiful being,--not a stage-player, a masquerader, a
theatre woman, an author whose business it is to feign sentiments,
a creature who will deceive him and make him unhappy! She has had
adventures--"

"With several men," said the rector. "And yet this impious creature was
born in Brittany! She dishonors her land. I shall preach a sermon upon
her next Sunday."

"Don't do that!" cried the baroness. "The peasants and the _paludiers_
would be capable of rushing to Les Touches. Calyste is worthy of his
name; he is Breton; some dreadful thing might happen to him, for he
would surely defend her as he would the Blessed V