so
entirely alone, in the middle of the summer, in such a lovely spot, and
that I should be very glad, now that I have left the convent, and am
destined to pass whole seasons in the country, to have as in the old
day, some one to run about the woods and paths with me.

"To be sure, Georges comes occasionally, but he always arrives very
late, just in time for dinner, and is off again with my father in the
morning before I am awake. And then he is a serious-minded man now,
is Monsieur Georges. He works at the factory, and business cares often
bring frowns to his brow.

"I had reached that point in my reflections when suddenly dear grandpapa
turned abruptly to me:

"'What has become of your little friend Sidonie? I should be glad to
have her here for a time.'

"You can imagine my delight. What happiness to meet again, to renew the
pleasant friendship that was broken off by the fault of the events of
life rather than by our own! How many things we shall have to tell
each other! You, who alone had the knack of driving the frowns from my
terrible grandpapa's brow, will bring us gayety, and I assure you we
need it.

"This lovely Savigny is so lonely! For instance, sometimes in the
morning I choose to be a little coquettish. I dress myself, I make
myself beautiful with my hair in curls and put on a pretty gown; I walk
through all the paths, and suddenly I realize that I have taken all this
trouble for the swans and ducks, my dog Kiss, and the cows, who do not
even turn to look at me when I pass. Thereupon, in my wrath, I hurry
home, put on a thick gown and busy myself on the farm, in the servants'
quarters, everywhere. And really, I am beginning to believe that ennui
has perfected me, and that I shall make an excellent housekeeper.

"Luckily the hunting season will soon be here, and I rely upon that
for a little amusement. In the first place, Georges and father, both
enthusiastic sportsmen, will come oftener. And then you will be here,
you know. For you will reply at once that you will come, won't you?
Monsieur Risler said not long ago that you were not well. The air of
Savigny will do you worlds of good.

"Everybody here expects you. And I am dying with impatience.

"CLAIRE."

Her letter written, Claire Fromont donned a large straw hat for the
first days of August were warm and glorious--and went herself to drop
it in the little box from which the postman collected the mail from the
chateau every mor