ired, so, resigning
myself to the prospect of some discomfort, I asked her if there was an
inn at St. Brieuc.

"A poor place for your honours," she answered, staring at us in
innocent wonder, the forgotten tears not dry on her cheeks.

"Never mind; take us to it," I answered.

She turned at the word and tripped on before us. I bade the servant
ask her, as we went, why she had been crying, and learned through him
that she had been to her uncle's two leagues away to borrow money for
her mother; that the uncle would not lend it, and that now they would
be turned out of their house; that her father was lately dead, and that
her mother kept the inn, and owed the money for meal and cider.

"At least, she says that she does not owe it," the man corrected
himself, "for her father paid as usual at Corpus Christi; but after his
death M. Grabot said that he had not paid, and--"

"M. Grabot?" I said. "Who is he?"

"The Mayor of Bottitort."

"The creditor?"

"Yes."

"And how much is owing?" I asked.

"Nothing, she says."

"But how much does he say?"

"Twenty crowns."

Doubtless some will view my conduct on this occasion with surprise; and
wonder why I troubled myself with inquiries so minute upon a matter so
mean. But these do not consider that ministers are the King's eyes;
and that in a State no class is so unimportant that it can be safely
overlooked. Moreover, as the settlement of the finances was one of the
objects of my stay in those parts--and I seldom had the opportunity of
checking the statements made to me by the farmers and lessees of the
taxes, the receivers, gatherers, and, in a word, all the corrupt class
that imparts such views of a province as suit its interests--I was glad
to learn anything that threw light on the real condition of the
country: the more, as I had to receive at Vitre a deputation of the
notables and officials of the district.

Accordingly, I continued to put questions to her until, crossing a
ridge, we came at last within sight of the inn, a lonely house of
stone, standing in the hollow of the moor and sheltered on one side by
a few gnarled trees that took off in a degree from the bleakness of its
aspect. The house was of one story only, with a window on either side
of the door, and no other appeared in sight; but a little smoke rising
from the chimney seemed to promise a better reception than the desolate
landscape and the girl's scanty dress had led us to expect.

As we