e you were
looking for. You seem to be somewhat impatient. Our country folk are not
so bad as you think; only they do not yield easily to new influences.
The beginning is always difficult for them. I know something about it
myself. When I returned from Dijon to take charge of the affairs at La
Thuiliere, I had no more experience than you, Monsieur, and I had great
difficulty in accomplishing anything. Where should we be now, if I had
suffered myself to be discouraged, like you, at the very outset?"

Julien raised his eyes toward the speaker, coloring with embarrassment
to hear himself lectured by this young peasant girl, whose ideas,
however, had much more virility than his own.

"You reason like a man, Mademoiselle Vincart," remarked he, admiringly,
"pray, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two years; and you, Monsieur de Buxieres?"

"I shall soon be twenty-eight."

"There is not much difference between us; still, you are the older, and
what I have done, you can do also."

"Oh!" sighed he, "you have a love of action. I have a love of repose--I
do not like to act."

"So much the worse!" replied Reine, very decidedly. "A man ought to show
more energy. Come now, Monsieur de Buxieres, will you allow me to speak
frankly to you? If you wish people to come to you, you must first get
out of yourself and go to seek them; if you expect your neighbor to show
confidence and good-will toward you, you must be open and good-natured
toward him."

"That plan has not yet succeeded with two persons around here," replied
Julien, shaking his head.

"Which persons?"

"The Sejournants, mother and son. I tried to be pleasant with Claudet,
and received from both only rebuffs and insolence."

"Oh! as to Claudet," resumed she, impulsively, "he is excusable. You can
not expect he will be very gracious in his reception of the person who
has supplanted him--"

"Supplanted?--I do not understand."

"What!" exclaimed Reine, "have they not told you anything, then? That
is wrong. Well, at the risk of meddling in what does not concern me, I
think it is better to put you in possession of the facts: Your deceased
cousin never was married, but he had a child all the same--Claudet is
his son, and he intended that he should be his heir also. Every one
around the country knows that, for Monsieur de Buxieres made no secret
of it."

"Claudet, the son of Claude de Buxieres?" ejaculated Julien, with
amazement.

"Yes; and if the deceased had had the ti