of us blushed deepest. Too much confused for immediate speech she
returned to her seat at an embroidery frame while the servant placed two
chairs, then she drew out her needle and counted some stitches, as if
to explain her silence; after which she raised her head, gently yet
proudly, in the direction of Monsieur de Chessel as she asked to what
fortunate circumstance she owed his visit. Though curious to know the
secret of my unexpected appearance, she looked at neither of us,--her
eyes were fixed on the river; and yet you could have told by the way she
listened that she was able to recognize, as the blind do, the agitations
of a neighboring soul by the imperceptible inflexions of the voice.

Monsieur de Chessel gave my name and biography. I had lately arrived
at Tours, where my parents had recalled me when the armies threatened
Paris. A son of Touraine to whom Touraine was as yet unknown, she would
find me a young man weakened by excessive study and sent to Frapesle to
amuse himself; he had already shown me his estate, which I saw for
the first time. I had just told him that I had walked from Tours to
Frapesle, and fearing for my health--which was really delicate--he had
stopped at Clochegourde to ask her to allow me to rest there. Monsieur
de Chessel told the truth; but the accident seemed so forced that Madame
de Mortsauf distrusted us. She gave me a cold, severe glance, under
which my own eyelids fell, as much from a sense of humiliation as
to hide the tears that rose beneath them. She saw the moisture on my
forehead, and perhaps she guessed the tears; for she offered me the
restoratives I needed, with a few kind and consoling words, which gave
me back the power of speech. I blushed like a young girl, and in a voice
as tremulous as that of an old man I thanked her and declined.

"All I ask," I said, raising my eyes to hers, which mine now met for the
second time in a glance as rapid as lightning,--"is to rest here. I am
so crippled with fatigue I really cannot walk farther."

"You must not doubt the hospitality of our beautiful Touraine," she
said; then, turning to my companion, she added: "You will give us the
pleasure of your dining at Clochegourde?"

I threw such a look of entreaty at Monsieur de Chessel that he began
the preliminaries of accepting the invitation, though it was given in
a manner that seemed to expect a refusal. As a man of the world,
he recognized these shades of meaning; but I, a young man wi