So she kept her house and nursed Pani back to some semblance of her
former self. But often it was a touch of the childhood of old age, and
she rambled about those she had known, the De Longueils and Bellestres,
and the night Jeanne had been left in her arms.

Jeanne liked the chapel minister and his wife very much. The lady had so
many subjects to converse about that never led to curious questions. The
minister lent her books and they talked them over afterward. This was
the world she liked.

But she had not lost her love for that other world of freedom and
exhilaration. After a brief Indian summer with days of such splendor
that it seemed as if the great Artist was using his most magnificent
colors, winter set in sharp and with a snap that startled every one.
Snow blocked the roads and the sparkling expanse of crust on the top was
the delight of the children, who walked and slid and pulled each other
in long loads like a chain of dogs. And some of the lighter weight young
people skated over it like flying birds. In the early evening all was
gayety. Jeanne was not lacking in admirers. Young Loisel often called
for her, and Martin Lavosse would easily have verged on the sentimental
if Jeanne had not been so gay and unconscious. He was quite sore over
the defection of Rose De Ber, who up in one of the new streets was
hobnobbing with the gentry and quite looking down on the Beesons.

Then the minister and his wife often joined these outdoor parties. Since
he neither played cards, danced, nor drank in after-dinner symposiums,
this spirited amusement stirred his blood. Pani went to bed early, and
Margot would bring in her sewing and see that nothing untoward happened.

Few of the stores were open in the evenings. Short as the day was, all
the business could be done in it. Now and then one saw a feeble light in
a window where a man stayed to figure on some loss or gain.

Fleets were laid up or ventured only on short journeys. From the
northern country came stories of ice and snow that chilled one's marrow.
Yet the great fires, the fur rugs and curtains and soft blankets kept
one comfortable within.

There were some puzzling questions for Jeanne. She liked the freedom of
conscience at the chapel, and then gentle Father Rameau drew her to the
church.

"If I had two souls," she said one day to the minister, "I should be
quite satisfied. And it seems to me sometimes as if I were two different
people," looking up with a br