gaily and
briskly than was his wont; for, though he had a rather large sum of money
in his pocket, he travelled on foot for pleasure. He was a good-tempered
fellow, and not without wit, but so very thoughtless and flighty that
people looked upon him as being rather weak-minded. His doublet buttoned
awry, his periwig flying to the wind, his hat under his arm, he followed
the banks of the Seine, at times finding enjoyment in his own thoughts and
again indulging in snatches of song; up at daybreak, supping at wayside
inns, and always charmed with this stroll of his through one of the most
beautiful regions of France. Plundering the apple-trees of Normandy on his
way, he puzzled his brain to find rhymes (for all these rattlepates are
more or less poets), and tried hard to turn out a madrigal for a certain
fair damsel of his native place. She was no less than a daughter of a
fermier-general, Mademoiselle Godeau, the pearl of Havre, a rich heiress,
and much courted. Croisilles was not received at M. Godeau's otherwise
than in a casual sort of way, that is to say, he had sometimes himself
taken there articles of jewelry purchased at his father's. M. Godeau,
whose somewhat vulgar surname ill-fitted his immense fortune, avenged
himself by his arrogance for the stigma of his birth, and showed himself
on all occasions enormously and pitilessly rich. He certainly was not the
man to allow the son of a goldsmith to enter his drawing-room; but, as
Mademoiselle Godeau had the most beautiful eyes in the world, and
Croisilles was not ill-favored, and as nothing can prevent a fine fellow
from falling in love with a pretty girl, Croisilles adored Mademoiselle
Godeau, who did not seem vexed thereat. Thus was he thinking of her as he
turned his steps toward Havre; and, as he had never reflected seriously
upon anything, instead of thinking of the invincible obstacles which
separated him from his lady-love, he busied himself only with finding a
rhyme for the Christian name she bore. Mademoiselle Godeau was called
Julie, and the rhyme was found easily enough. So Croisilles, having
reached Honfleur, embarked with a satisfied heart, his money and his
madrigal in his pocket, and as soon as he jumped ashore ran to the
paternal house.

He found the shop closed, and knocked again and again, not without
astonishment and apprehension, for it was not a holiday; but nobody came.
He called his father, but in vain. He went to a neighbor's to ask what had
h