much time just now; let it suffice to
say that Roustan is a thoroughbred barb from the Atlas mountains, and a
Barbary horse is as good as an Arab. This one of mine will gallop up the
mountain roads without turning a hair, and will never miss his footing
in a canter along the brink of a precipice. He was a present to me, and
I think that I deserved it, for in this way a father sought to repay
me for his daughter's life. She is one of the wealthiest heiresses in
Europe, and she was at the brink of death when I found her on the road
to Savoy. If I were to tell you how I cured that young lady, you would
take me for a quack. Aha! that is the sound of the bells on the horses
and the rumbling of a wagon; it is coming along this way; let us see,
perhaps that is Vigneau himself; and if so, take a good look at him!"

In another moment the officer saw a team of four huge horses, like those
which are owned by prosperous farmers in Brie. The harness, the little
bells, and the knots of braid in their manes, were clean and smart. The
great wagon itself was painted bright blue, and perched aloft in it
sat a stalwart, sunburned youth, who shouldered his whip like a gun and
whistled a tune.

"No," said Benassis, "that is only the wagoner. But see how the master's
prosperity in business is reflected by all his belongings, even by the
carter's wagon! Is it not a sign of a capacity for business not very
often met with in remote country places?"

"Yes, yes, it all looks very smart indeed," the officer answered.

"Well, Vigneau has two more wagons and teams like that one, and he has a
small pony besides for business purposes, for he does trade over a wide
area. And only four years ago he had nothing in the world! Stay, that is
a mistake--he had some debts. But let us go in."

"Is Mme. Vigneau in the house?" Benassis asked of the young wagoner.

"She is out in the garden, sir; I saw her just now by the hedge down
yonder; I will go and tell her that you are here."

Genestas followed Benassis across a wide open space with a hedge about
it. In one corner various heaps of clay had been piled up, destined for
tiles and pantiles, and a stack of brushwood and logs (fuel for the
kiln no doubt) lay in another part of the enclosure. Farther away some
workmen were pounding chalk stones and tempering the clay in a space
enclosed by hurdles. The tiles, both round and square, were made under
the great elms opposite the gateway, in a vast green arbor