ness; while you were
praying to the Virgin, I was saying a word or two for my part to her who
is no more."

"Sir!"

"Oh! it was nothing beautiful like the things you said to the other.
Can I turn phrases? I saw her behind her little counter in the Rue
Quincampoix; for she is a woman of the people, is my mother. I saw
myself come to the other side of the counter, and I said, 'Look here,
mother, here is the devil to pay about this new house. The old woman
talks of dying if we take her from her home, and the young one weeps
and prays to all the saints in paradise; what shall we do, eh?' Then
I thought my old woman said to me, 'Jean, you are a soldier, a sort of
vagabond; what do you want with a house in France? you who are always in
a tent in Italy or Austria, or who knows where. Have you the courage to
give honest folk so much pain for a caprice? Come now,' says she, 'the
lady is of my age, say you, and I can't keep your fine house, because
God has willed it otherwise; so give her my place; so then you can fancy
it is me you have set down at your hearth: that will warm your heart up
a bit, you little scamp,' said my old woman in her rough way. She was
not well-bred like you, mademoiselle. A woman of the people, nothing
more."

"She was a woman of God's own making, if she was like that," cried
Josephine, the tears now running down her cheeks.

"Ah, that she was, she was. So between her and me it is settled--what
are you crying for NOW? why, you have won the day; the field is yours;
your mother and you remain; I decamp." He whipped his scabbard up with
his left hand, and was going off without another word, if Josephine had
not stopped him.

"But, sir, what am I to think? what am I to hope? it is impossible that
in this short interview--and we must not forget what is due to you. You
have bought the estate."

"True; well, we will talk over that, to-morrow; but being turned out of
the house, that was the bayonet thrust to the old lady. So you run in
and put her heart at rest about it. Tell her that she may live and die
in this house for Jean Raynal; and tell her about the old woman in the
Rue Quincampoix."

"God bless you, Jean Raynal!" cried Josephine, clasping her hands.

"Are you going?" said he, peremptorily.

"Oh, yes!" and she darted towards the chateau.

But when she had taken three steps she paused, and seemed irresolute.
She turned, and in a moment she had glided to Raynal again and had taken
his hand be