ch recluses appear to give to every detail of a meal.

"Does this fine fruit come also from your farm, madame?" asked
Godefroid.

"Yes, monsieur," she replied. "We have a little model farm, like the
government itself; we call it our country house; it is twelve miles from
here, on the road to Italy, near Villeneuve-Saint-Georges."

"It is a property that belongs to us all, and is to go to the survivor,"
said the goodman Alain.

"Oh, it is not very considerable!" added Madame de la Chanterie, rather
hastily, as if she feared that Godefroid might think these remarks a
bait.

"There are thirty acres of tilled land," said one of the two personages
still unknown to Godefroid, "six of meadow, and an enclosure containing
four acres, in which our house, which adjoins the farmhouse, stands."

"But such a property as that," said Godefroid, "must be worth a hundred
thousand francs."

"Oh, we don't get anything out of it but our provisions!" said the same
personage.

He was a tall, grave, spare man, with all the appearance of having
served in the army. His white hair showed him to be past sixty, and his
face betrayed some violent grief controlled by religion.

The second unnamed person, who seemed to be something between a master
of rhetoric and a business agent, was of ordinary height, plump, but
active withal. His face had the jovial expression which characterizes
those of lawyers and notaries in Paris.

The dress of these four personages revealed a neatness due to the most
scrupulous personal care. The same hand, and it was that of Manon, could
be seen in every detail. Their coats were perhaps ten years old, but
they were preserved, like the coats of vicars, by the occult power of
the servant-woman, and the constant care with which they were worn.
These men seemed to wear on their backs the livery of a system of life;
they belonged to one thought, their looks said the same word, their
faces breathed a gentle resignation, a provoking quietude.

"Is it an indiscretion, madame," said Godefroid, "to ask the names of
these gentlemen? I am ready to explain my life; can I know as much of
theirs as custom will allow?"

"That gentleman," said Madame de la Chanterie, motioning to the tall,
thin man, "is Monsieur Nicolas; he is a colonel of gendarmerie, retired
with the rank of brigadier-general. And this," she added, looking
towards the stout little man, "is a former councillor of the royal
courts of Paris, who retired from