I wouldn't let Claudine help me for the
world. I take so much delight in my fruit-house,--the smell of the
beautiful ripe fruit is so delicious."

"M. le Cure," said Madame Georges, "you must go some day and see Marie's
fruit-house. You can scarcely imagine the taste with which she has
arranged it; each different variety of fruit is separated by rows of
grapes, and the grapes are again divided off by strips of moss."

"Oh, yes, M. le Cure; pray do come and see it," said the Goualeuse,
innocently; "I am sure you would be pleased with it. You would be
surprised what a pretty contrast the moss makes to the bright rosy
apples or the rich golden pears. There are some such lovely waxen
apples, quite a pure red and white; and really, as they lie surrounded
by the soft green moss, I cannot help thinking of the heads of little
cherubim just peeping out from the glorious clouds of heaven," added the
delighted Goualeuse, speaking with all the enthusiasm of an artist of
the work of her creation.

The cure looked at Madame Georges, then smilingly replied to
Fleur-de-Marie:

"I have already admired the dairy over which you preside, my child, and
can venture to declare it perfect in its way; the most particular
dairy-woman might envy you the perfection to which you have brought it.
Ere long, I promise myself the pleasure of visiting your fruit-house,
and passing a similar compliment on your skill in arrangement. You shall
then introduce me to those charming rosy apples and delicious golden
pears, as well as to the little cherubim pippins so prettily peeping
from their mossy beds. But see! the sun has already set; you will
scarcely have sufficient time to conduct me back to the rectory-house
and return before dark. Come, my child, fetch your cloak, and let us be
gone; or, now I think of it, do you remain at home this cold bitter
night, and let one of the farm servants go home with me."

"Oh, M. le Cure," replied the kind Madame Georges, "Marie will be quite
wretched if she is not allowed to accompany you; she so much enjoys the
happiness of escorting you home every evening."

"Indeed, Monsieur le Cure," added the Goualeuse, timidly raising her
large blue eyes to the priest's countenance, "I shall fear you are
displeased with me if you do not permit me to accompany you as usual."

"Well, then, my dear child, wrap yourself up very warm, and let us go."

Fleur-de-Marie hastily threw over her shoulders a sort of cloak of
coarse wh