HECTOR.
 
 By the Same Author. 
 
 CASTLE BLAIR. 
 
 A STORY OF YOUTHFUL DAYS. 
 
 " There is a quite lovely little book just come out about chil- 
 dren, ' Castle Blair.' . . . The book is good, and lovely, and true, 
 having the best description of a noble child in it (Winnie) that I 
 ever read ; and nearly the best description of the next best thing 
 a noble dog." JOHN RUSKIN.
 
 5125818
 
 HECTOR.
 
 HECTOR 
 
 A STORY. 
 
 BY 
 
 FLORA L. SHAW. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " CASTLE BLAIR." 
 
 BOSTON: 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1881.
 
 HECTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TT has been an exciting day for me, Grand'mere 
 says, and she has sent me to bed early. But 
 I do not want to sleep ; and as I sit here in the 
 quiet, it is not of to-day that I think, but of the 
 old time long ago when little Hector flashed like 
 a new star into our life. Every one forgets him 
 now but I. I will never forget him. 
 
 First, I heard of his coming. It was a quiet 
 spring day in April. The peach-trees and pears 
 in the orchard were in full blossom, the hedges 
 were bursting into leaf, and I sat in the porch 
 spinning by Grand'mere, looking down over the 
 yellow mustard fields and vineyards red with 
 opening anemones. 
 
 Grand'mere was busy counting off the stitches 
 for the heel of the stocking that she was knit- 
 ting, so she had told me to hold my tongue when 
 T chattered, and I was trying to amuse myself by
 
 6 HECTOR. 
 
 listening to the blackbirds piping and singing 
 in the great stone-pine by the door ; when 
 presently I saw the white cornette of Soeur 
 Amelie coming round the elder clump at the 
 end of the lane. 
 
 I never cared much to see her in the morning, 
 for in the morning she came to teach me to 
 read and write, and learn L'Histoire Sainte, 
 and as the money Grand'mere paid her for that 
 was to go to build a chapel for the sisters at 
 Baitgz, I felt always very, very wicked if I was 
 not good. But when she came in the afternoon 
 it was generally to chat over the news with 
 Grand'mere, and I liked to hear the news. It 
 was so dull to listen all day to the cooing of the 
 pigeons up on the roof and the click of the 
 needles in Grand'mere's stocking. 
 
 To-day, as she came closer in sight, I saw 
 that she had a letter in her hand. 
 
 " I met the postman at the bottom of the 
 lane," she said, "and I brought your letter up 
 to save him the walk." 
 
 Grand'mere so seldom received a letter that I 
 felt my own cheeks flush with surprise, and I 
 glanced up eager to see what she would do. But 
 the stitches of her heel were not counted yet, 
 and she went on aloud sixteen, seventeen,
 
 HECTOR. 7 
 
 eighteen not stretching her hand for the letter 
 till the heel was safely separate on the third 
 needle. 
 
 Then, when she had looked at the post-mark 
 and examined the writing, she glanced down 
 sharply at my eager face, and said as she pulled 
 out her spectacles : 
 
 " I hear the hens clucking. They are hungry, 
 go you and give them their food." 
 
 I could have cried for disappointment, but 
 Grand'mere would never b'e gainsaid. So I 
 got up very slowly and went away ; and the big 
 hens got all the corn that day, for I took no 
 thought of the chickens, but just spilled the 
 Indian corn angrily about the yard, till Madelon 
 put her head out of the kitchen window and 
 remarked to Jean : 
 
 " Oh, the famous housekeeper ! We shall 
 show fat fowls in the market next Saturday." 
 And that made me shut down the corn-bin with 
 a bang and run straight back to the porch to es- 
 cape from Jean's stupid laughter. I could see 
 Sceur Am&ie's cornette flapping as I came round 
 the corner of the house, which proved she was 
 in full flow of- conversation. The letter had dis- 
 appeared ; no doubt into Grand'mSre's great 
 apron pocket, to keep company with the keys
 
 8 HECTOR. 
 
 and her wool ball. But I hoped yet to glean 
 something from the conversation. 
 
 Grand'mere's eyes were unusually bright, and 
 the decided look on her face piqued my curiosity 
 to the quick. I had never seen her look so, ex- 
 cept at harvest-times or when there was business 
 to be done. 
 
 Her eye fell on me the moment I came round 
 the corner. 
 
 " Fast day for the fowls, hein ? " she said ; but 
 the next moment she laughed good-humoredly, 
 and while I blushed scarlet to find myself thus 
 found out she called me to her, and said : 
 
 " After all, the news concerns you more than 
 any of us, since it is you who will gain a com- 
 panion ; and I do not see why you should not 
 hear that the son of your cousin Marie, who died 
 last year in England, is coming to live with us. 
 He is an orphan, like you. His father too is 
 lately dead, and he is .less happy than you, for 
 his grandparents do not want him at all, but 
 gladly send him to his mother's relations. 
 Therefore his heart may likely enough be sore 
 when he comes, and you will do your best to 
 be kind to him." 
 
 " Poor child," she continued to Soeur Amdlie; 
 "neither father nor mother now, and I remem-
 
 HECTOR. 9 
 
 her how his mother rejoiced over him not two 
 years ago. Beautiful, she told me, and strong 
 and clever like his father, but even then the 
 family did not love him ; their hearts were 
 always of ice for his mother. They were jeal 
 ous, perhaps; and now ah bah! they are a 
 selfish people, the English. With their droit 
 d'ainesse, they have no place for the orphans of 
 younger children. Here he will find no gran- 
 deurs, but there is enough, thank God, of every- 
 thing we need ; and so far as heart goes, this 
 little one will love him. As for me, I loved his 
 mother ; I am too old now to love new-comers." 
 Grand'mre patted my head while she spoke, 
 and I kissed her brown wrinkled hand, and 
 promised that I would love him for both of us. 
 I did not say anything more, for Grand'mdre 
 used not to like children to talk much ; but I sat 
 there, and thought of the promise I had made 
 while Grand'mre and Sceur Amlie continued 
 to talk ; and the more I thought, the more I felt 
 that I would like to love little Hector. What 
 Grand'mre and Soeur Amlie were saying above 
 my head made me picture him in my heart very 
 sad and lonely. He had no sisters or brothers, 
 they said. No more had I ; and I wondered if 
 he sometimes wished for a brother as I had some-
 
 io HECTOR. 
 
 times wished for a little sister. I had never 
 known my father and mother, so it was no grief 
 to me to lose them ; but he had known his. I 
 thought of his mother, rejoicing over him ; and 
 then of her, dead and cold ; and he left all alone 
 to the jealous family ; till the picture of his deso- 
 lation brought tears to my eyes, and I had to try 
 quickly to think of something else, for fear 
 Grand'm^re might see and ask me what was the 
 matter. I listened then with all my ears to what 
 Grand'mre and Sceur Amlie were saying, and 
 I understood enough to know soon that Hector's 
 grandfather was a rich English milord, but that 
 Hector's father had been the youngest son, and 
 his family had been angry with his imprudent 
 marriage ; and now that he was dead, Hector's 
 uncles were jealous because the boy was so 
 strong and fine, while they had no sons yet to 
 inherit their wealth. Already I felt a sisterly 
 pride in him ; I was glad to know that he was 
 strong and fine. I remembered suddenly with 
 new interest how I had often heard Grand'mere's 
 friends congratulate her on the healthy air of 
 Salaret, and I looked over our fields with almost 
 a wicked joy at the thought that they would make 
 him every day stronger and finer, till he grew up 
 wonderful, like the Prince Charming of a fairy
 
 HECTOR. II 
 
 tale, and went home to astonish his wicked un- 
 cles. His uncles were going, Grand'm^re said, 
 to have plenty of sons. I did not know how 
 that would be, but I took for granted beforehand 
 that our Hector would be more beautiful and 
 more clever than any of his cousins. 
 
 Already he was to me our Hector, and from 
 that day till the day he came I scarcely ceased to 
 think of him. Salaret was like a new place 
 since it had this new interest. I had never 
 thought about it before. It had been always 
 there, standing, just as it does now, on the side 
 of the hill with the vineyards sloping down in 
 front and the orchard sloping up to the chestnut 
 wood behind ; and I had been accustomed year 
 after year to watch the blackbirds build in the 
 big stone-pine by the door, and the ducks and 
 geese swim round the little stagnant pond in 
 front, while the pigs and fowls and oxen tramp- 
 led the soft slush of the big farmyard, and the 
 laborers came and went, without ever asking 
 myself whether all this was pretty or plea- 
 sant. It was part of my life, and before that 
 time I scarcely remember it ; but I remember 
 quite distinctly now how it looked on the day 
 that Hector came ; and, wherever I spend my 
 future life, it is the picture of Salaret, as I saw
 
 iz HECTOR. 
 
 it that day, which will always remain with me as 
 the picture of home. 
 
 Everything had been made ready for Hector. 
 Madelon had said that she would love no English 
 boy. Her father lived in the mill which was the 
 very last bit of land the English ever held in 
 France, and he remembered the English Duke 
 of Wellington ; so she thought she knew all 
 about the English. She said they were hard and 
 gluttonous, and very little civilized ; and she 
 used to tease me about Hector, saying before- 
 hand that he would be ugly like a monkey. But 
 for all that, she said the Duke was a great milord ; 
 and when she heard that Hector's grandfather 
 was to accompany him, she had worked like four 
 to make the house ready for the occasion. It 
 was clean now, from top to bottom. In the 
 drawing-room the windows had been opened and 
 the floor fresh waxed and polished ; a faint scent 
 of honey rose from the shining boards and mixed 
 with the sweet smell of the summer wash which 
 the breeze from the garden blew out of the clean 
 white dimity curtains. The brass dogs on the 
 hearth had been polished ; I had myself dusted 
 the old-fashioned chimney-piece. Grand'mere 
 did not like to have flowers brought into the 
 house, but the peach-trees outside were in full
 
 HECTOR. 13 
 
 blossom, and their pink boughs crossed each 
 other before the open windows, throwing rosy 
 reflections on the floor. 
 
 Upstairs, too, Hector's own little room was 
 ready. Madelon had scrubbed it beautifully 
 clean ; Grand'mdre herself had given out a pair 
 of the best linen sheets for his bed. They let 
 me give him my patchwork quilt, and everything 
 looked as comfortable as we could make it. 
 Even the pigeons seemed pleased as they cooed 
 on the window-sill and looked in. Then, when 
 there was nothing more to do, and I had brushed 
 and plaited my hair, put on my Sunday dress and 
 one of my Sunday white pinafores, Grand'mere 
 took pity on my impatience, and told me to run 
 down the lane and watch till I saw a carriage 
 in sight on the high road. At the bottom of our 
 lane there was a mound, with an old wooden cross 
 upon it, and from the top of the mound you could 
 see for a mile or two along the road ; so I ran 
 down through the lane where the hedges were 
 all in flower with white thorn and gorse and peri- 
 winkles, and climbed on the mound to watch. 
 But the carriage kept me waiting a long time, 
 and while I waited, to make the time pass, I 
 tried to fancy myself in Hector's place, and to 
 imagine what then I should think of the new 
 home to which I was coming. Instead of watch-
 
 14 HECTOB. 
 
 ing the high road, I had soon turned my back 
 upon it, and for the first time in my life I really 
 looked at Salaret. It is only a farmhouse, and 
 to my childish eyes it did not look nearly grand 
 enough, with its modest white walls and long 
 straggling expanse of red-tiled roof which 
 stetched in irregular gables over house and 
 stables and storehouses ; but the orchard spread 
 up the hill behind like a sun-touched cloud of 
 white and pink, the chestnut wood above was 
 bursting into brilliant green, and in the lovely 
 lights and shadows of the spring afternoon, 
 the place touched my heart even then with 
 a tender and homelike feeling. I thought that 
 if I could have wished it more grand, I could 
 hardly have wished it more beautiful, and I hoped 
 that little Hector would be glad to live there 
 with me. 
 
 Grand'm^re stood waiting under the pine-tree 
 by the porch, and I was looking at her and at 
 the pigeons pecking and strutting on the path 
 at her feet, when suddenly above the noise of 
 the forge at the other side of the road a sound of 
 wheels and trotting horses fell on my ear, and, 
 before I had time even to jump off my post of 
 observation, a grand carriage drawn by a pair 
 of horses had dashed round the corner and was 
 rolling in front of me up the lane.
 
 HECTOR. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ' I ^O try to overtake the equipage was useless, 
 and to run in the cloud of dust it raised 
 would have been to make myself dirty as well as 
 late. So, mortified as I was to have missed 
 the first sight of Hector after all, and trembling 
 with shyness at the thought of entering the 
 drawing-room already full of strangers, I went 
 slowly back to the house. 
 
 Grand'mdre and her visitors had gone in by 
 the time I reached the door; but there, standing 
 in the porch alone, with his head in the air and 
 his eyes fixed eagerly on the thick branches of 
 the stone-pine, was a little boy, who must, I 
 knew, be Hector. He wore a loose suit of rough 
 black serge, made with a wide collar which fell 
 back upon his shoulders, leaving his throat and 
 chest bare, like a sailor's, to the air. His hat 
 was in his hand, and the sun streamed upon the 
 masses of ruddy gold hair which, though cut 
 short, yet waved loosely above his strong square
 
 i6 HECTOR. 
 
 forehead. Everything about him was strong and 
 firm, the attitude in which he stood, the intensity 
 of his* gaze into the pine-tree, the curves of the 
 white throat and uplifted chin. He was not the 
 least bit like what I had expected, but I had 
 time to look at him thoroughly, for he stood just 
 in the middle of the porch, so that I could not 
 pass into the house ; and though on first seeing 
 him I had put out my hand and stammered forth 
 the best greeting that I could, he did not seem 
 for some time to see me. As he would neither 
 move out of my way nor take any notice of me 
 himself, I waited quietly on the step beneath 
 him, and my gaze followed his to the depths of 
 the pine foliage ; then after a moment or two he 
 looked down, and his first words, spoken in 
 French as pure as my own, and as quietly as 
 though he had known me all my life, were : 
 
 " Are they thrushes or blackbirds ? I can't 
 get a sight of one." 
 
 I was red all over, not for shyness now, but 
 for real pleasure to hear his voice and to be able 
 to tell him what he wanted to know. 
 
 " They are blackbirds ; and from the window 
 of your bedroom you can see right into one of 
 the nests." 
 
 " Right in, so as to see the eggs ? Are there
 
 HECTOR. 17 
 
 any eggs ? Do you think we shall see the young 
 ones when they are hatched ?" 
 
 He turned fully to me now, and looked straight 
 into my face, his own face all aglow with inter- 
 est. I saw that his eyes were dark grey, and I 
 thought they werethe brightest I had ever seen. 
 
 " I think they will be hatched soon," I said, 
 " because they have been laid a long time now ; 
 one might even come out to-day." 
 
 " Let us go up," he said eagerly. " Let us go 
 up ; perhaps it will be out already." 
 
 In another moment we were upstairs in his 
 room, and without seeming even to see the cup- 
 board of carved oak, or the patchwork quilt, or 
 the new mat Grand'meire had bought for his bed- 
 side, he flung himself half out of the window in 
 his anxiety to peep into the nest. The mother 
 bird was sitting ; we could not see the eggs, but 
 she looked at us with soft bright eyes from be- 
 neath her interlaced canopy of green spikes, and 
 J saw at once that Hector would no more have 
 frightened her than I. 
 
 He looked at her very quietly for a time, 
 his grey eyes sparkling with interest ; then he 
 asked me in a whisper if I knew much about 
 birds. 
 
 I whispered " No, that I only liked watching 
 2
 
 l8 HECTOR. 
 
 them sometimes, but that there were a great 
 many at Salaret" 
 
 " Ah, that's the way it is with girls," he said, 
 " they never know much about things ; have you 
 a bird book ? " I might have been offended, 
 only that he spoke so quietly I saw he did not 
 mean to be rude, and then I could not help 
 thinking that with regard to me it was quite 
 true. I did not know much about anything, I 
 did not even know if we had a bird book, and I 
 was so ashamed to confess my ignorance that I 
 stammered and grew red as I answered that I 
 did not think we had. 
 
 He looked round at me. It was the first time 
 he had really looked at me since we met, and 
 said quite kindly, as though he were talking to 
 a very little child, " Do you know how to read ?" 
 
 His question made me grow redder than ever. 
 I was nine years old then ; I had been able to 
 read for the last four years, and I told him so 
 with a little indignation piercing through my 
 cautiously whispered tones. I was glad at all 
 events to let him know that I was not so great 
 an ignoramus as he thought. 
 
 " You did not seem to know the books of the 
 house," he said, "and I want to find out if that 
 *> a real blackbird or a ring-ousel. But it is
 
 HECTOR. 19 
 
 rather early in the year for a ring-ousel to be 
 hatching." 
 
 He made way for me as he spoke, and I plant- 
 ed my elbows down beside his on the window- 
 sill. The window was narrow, so there was but 
 just room for us both, and we remained, thus 
 wedged tightly, shoulder to shoulder, while we 
 continued our whispered conversation. Under 
 the strangely alert gentle eyes of the blackbird 
 our intimacy grew fast. I told Hector man) 
 things about Salaret. I pointed out to him the 
 budding woods down in the hollow, and told him 
 of the numbers of birds he would find down 
 there. I told him of the great woodpigeon hunts 
 held up in the hills at the time of passage ; of 
 how we caught ortolans after the corn harvest ; 
 of everything that I thought would interest him ; 
 but at last, when I was telling him how the 
 woodpeckers ate the whole shutter of one of our 
 windows, he suddenly interrupted me to know if 
 we had any gold-crested wrens, 
 
 He used the Latin name, and by this time I 
 was no longer afraid of him ; so I laughed, and 
 said quite saucily that I did not understand 
 Latin. 
 
 " And it seems that I do not speak French," 
 he said, "for I don't know the French name.
 
 20 HECTOR. 
 
 What are we going to do in order to arrive at 
 understanding each other ? " 
 
 We looked at one another and laughed, and 
 then I saw what a merry face he had. 
 
 " Come downstairs to my grandfather," he 
 said, ."he knows everything, and he'll tell us the 
 French name." 
 
 It was the first time I had thought of the 
 grown-up people, and all my shyness returned as 
 I followed Hector downstairs. 
 
 But Hector did not apparently know what 
 shyness meant. He walked straight into the 
 drawing-room, which seemed to be full of the 
 silks and laces of two very grand ladies ; and 
 profiting by a pause in the conversation, asked 
 something in English of an old gentleman who 
 sat on the sofa beside Grand'mere. But, instead 
 of answering his question, the gentleman asked 
 him in return where he had been and what he 
 had been doing ; and all eyes then turned to me. 
 
 "Ah," Grand'mere said good-naturedly, taking 
 Hector's two strong white hands in hers, "you 
 have been making friends with Z61ie, I see. 
 Children," she added to Hector's grandfather, 
 " are best left to themselves to become ac- 
 quainted. In the age of growth new friend- 
 ships are quickly made. That is nature, a.nd
 
 HECTOR. 21 
 
 we can do little to make or mar it. For the 
 rest Zdlie wishes so much to have a companion 
 of her own age, that had he been ugly as Satan 
 she would always have found him more beauti- 
 ful than an old grandmother who has had the 
 time to forget that she ever was a child." 
 
 Grand'mere looked at me so kindly as she 
 spoke that I forgot the strangers who were 
 there, and in spite of my shyness I threw my 
 arms round her neck and whispered : 
 
 " However much I love him, you are always 
 Grand'mere." I think that pleased Grand'mere, 
 for she liked to know that I loved her. But 
 Hector was looking puzzled. 
 
 " Zelie," he said. " What's Zlie ? " 
 
 Grand'mere and I both laughed at his bewil- 
 dered expression. 
 
 " Oh ! We don't know that yet," said Grand- 
 mere with a sarcastic note in her voice. " This 
 is Zelie," and she laid her hand upon my 
 shoulder. 
 
 Instantly Hector turned towards me a face 
 which made my heart beat for pleasure, the 
 beaming face of recognition one turns to a 
 friend. 
 
 " You ! " he exclaimed, " are you Zlie ? Of 
 course, yes, of course ; I had forgotten there 
 was to be a little girl."
 
 22 HECTOR. 
 
 " You had forgotten there was to be a little 
 girl?" repeated Grand'mere. "And for what 
 did you take her then during the hour you have 
 passed together?" 
 
 Hector looked at me. Then his face wrinkled 
 into laughter, and he replied with twinkling 
 eyes : 
 
 " For a bird book, I think, madame." 
 
 "And a bad one too," I murmured, with his 
 speech about girls knowing nothing much rank- 
 ling a little in my memory. Every one laughed 
 at his bit of impudence, and Grand'mere said, 
 "Aliens, she had better prove her love to you 
 by giving you something to eat. It is the part 
 women play towards men like you. Take him 
 away, Zelie, and give him some goiiter. It is 
 probable that he likes nuts and jams even better 
 than you like them yourself." 
 
 I had prepared a gofiter for Hector before he 
 came. I asked him now if he would like to 
 have it out of doors, and as he said he would, we 
 were soon seated under a fig-tree at the corner, 
 enjoying our little picnic. That is to say, I en- 
 joyed it. I don't know whether Hector did in 
 anything like the same degree. To have a com- 
 panion at last, and to know that .he was not 
 going away ; to think that to-morrow I should
 
 HECTOR. 23 
 
 wake up to find him still in the house, and that 
 the next day, and the next day, and the next, he 
 would still be there to share my life ; that when 
 the fruit was ripe he would be there to pick it 
 with me ; that when the hay was cut we should 
 play in it together ; that when the maize was 
 reaped he would work with me at the winnow- 
 ing ; that we should rejoice together when the 
 time came to cut the grapes ; that when Soeur 
 Amelie gave us lessons, he would learn them by 
 my side to know, in fact, that life was never go- 
 ing to be lonely any more filled me with a delight 
 almost greater than I could contain. The food 
 we were eating seemed to me to taste nicer than 
 it had ever tasted before ; but I scarcely cared to 
 eat for the pleasure of watching Hector, and try- 
 ing to slip the best pieces on his plate. He did 
 not seem to notice much what he was eating or 
 what I was doing, but lay on his side with one 
 leg curled round the other and one elbow planted 
 on the ground, and gazed about him in silent in- 
 terest. From time to time he asked me a ques- 
 tion which I answered to the best of my ability, 
 but he did not seem to wish to talk, and I was 
 content to be silent. His face was like an ani- 
 mated conversation all the time, it was so full of 
 energy and sympathy; and in watching it I be-
 
 24 HECTOR. 
 
 came interested to a degree which left us both 
 unaware of how little we talked. 
 
 I sat facing the house ; he lay opposite to me, 
 looking down over the lane and the vineyards 
 beyond. Presently I saw the corners of his 
 mouth go up and his eyes light with laughter. 
 
 " What are you laughing at ?" I asked. 
 
 "At the face which is coming up the path; 
 it's exactly like an india-rubber cracker in a cor- 
 nette. Look ! " 
 
 I looked round to see to my horror Sosur 
 Ame'lie, whom I had always been taught to rev- 
 erence as a saint, and whom I considered as far 
 above the shafts of criticism as M. le Cur6 or 
 Grand'mere herself ; and to make matters worse 
 the truth of Hector's observation forced itself 
 upon me the instant my eyes fell on her. Her 
 face was like the india-rubber face of a cracker. 
 It was very small and very wrinkled, the tiny 
 mouth and nose and chin almost disappearing in 
 rather overhanging cheeks. Cheeks, lips, and 
 all were yellow like old ivory ; the little pale 
 blue eyes were unshaded by any eyebrows ; and 
 swathed as the face was in the white bands of 
 her coif, it looked, I confess, so little human 
 that I could hardly help laughing, myself at 
 Hector's naughty comparison.
 
 HECTOR. 25 
 
 I had hardly had time to tell him that he must 
 not laugh at her, that she was very good, and 
 that she taught us our lessons to help to build a 
 chapel for the sisters at Baitgz, before she 
 reached the place where we were sitting. 
 
 She kissed me as usual, on both cheeks, and 
 while my head was in her cornette I almost 
 prayed that she might not kiss Hector. I knew 
 by instinct that he would not like it. But she 
 did. She makes a rule of kissing every one who 
 is connected, however distantly, with the family; 
 and Hector bore it very well. He came out 
 from under her cornette a little red, and his hair 
 ruffled by the mistake he had made of trying to 
 kiss the wrong side of her face, for which he had 
 received a blow from the front of the cornette 
 going in the opposite direction ; but he made no 
 sign of objecting to the salute. If she had let 
 him alone then all might yet have been well. 
 
 She began to ask him questions. 
 
 " Have you ever seen a sister of charity before 
 dressed like this?" 
 
 " No, madame." 
 
 "Ah! my costume astonishes you, perhaps; 
 but you must not think that we are scarecrows, 
 we sisters of charity. We are only poor weak 
 women who have devoted ourselves to good
 
 26 HECTOR. 
 
 works. We serve the good God and pray to " 
 Soeur Amelie said all this in a tone of the 
 utmost good-humor, but here she suddenly 
 stopped and asked somewhat seriously : " But 
 perhaps you do not love our Holy Church ?" 
 
 Hector made no answer, and she repeated, 
 " Your mother was a holy woman, have you 
 been brought up in our religion ? " 
 
 Hector looked as though he did not know 
 what the religion of sisters of charity might be. 
 
 " I don't exactly know," he answered slowly. 
 
 " In the Catholic religion," she explained. 
 " Are you Catholic or Protestant ? " 
 
 And he, standing politely hat in hand : " I 
 think we had better ask my grandfather, ma- 
 dame. My aunts talk to me a great deal about 
 religion, but I never thought of asking them the 
 name of their religion. Grandpapa will know." 
 
 I think Soeur Amelie was too much astonished 
 to be able to continue the conversation, for she 
 changed it suddenly, saying in a cheerful voice : 
 
 " And are you very glad to be here, my poor 
 child, with the little cousin who loves you ? " 
 
 And he, still standing with head uncovered : 
 
 " I don't know yet, madame, I have only just 
 arrived," 
 
 " How, you don't know ? They have taught
 
 I1ECTOE. 27 
 
 you already, at your age, to do without af- 
 fection ? " 
 
 This in a tone of the deepest commiseration. 
 
 Hector looked puzzled, and not knowing what 
 to say he tried to smile. I understood directly 
 that Soeuf Am&ie was thinking of him as the 
 unfortunate orphan cast out from a cold-hearted 
 family, and I was sure from the two or three 
 minutes I had been in the drawing-room that 
 Hector's grandfather at least loved him. 
 
 But I had too great a respect for Soeur Amelie 
 to say anything then, and she continued in a 
 tone of curiosity : 
 
 " Is it nothin-g to you that your little cousin 
 loves you ? " 
 
 " She cannot love me yet, madame," with a 
 smile no longer puzzled but amused. 
 
 " Ah, you do not understand that. You do 
 not love her, then ? " 
 
 He made no answer, but stooped to brush 
 some twigs from his clothes. I cast an implor- 
 ing glance at Soeur Amelie, but she did not see 
 it : she was intent upon Hector. 
 
 " Say, then ! You do not love her ? " 
 
 An embarrassed pause, then Hector answered 
 firmly: "No, madame;" not adding a word of 
 explanation, but reddening a little with discom-
 
 28 HECTOR. 
 
 fort at having to make the impolite speech. I 
 felt for him with all my heart. 
 
 "Oh! ma Soaur," I exclaimed; " how can he 
 love me yet, when he has only known me for an 
 hour ? " 
 
 But she, who was nodding her head slowly up 
 and down as over a reprobate, replied with sud- 
 den animation: 
 
 " Nevertheless, you love him ? You." 
 
 It was quite true, and I was silenced, but not 
 for that one bit convinced that Hector was hard- 
 hearted. It was natural that I should love him 
 I had so few people to love. I had heard so 
 much about him, and then he was to be the 
 companion for whom, I had longed. Whereas 
 there was no reason for him to love me, he knew 
 nothing at all about me ; and I liked him only 
 the better for telling the. truth. 
 
 " Do you like France ? " was Sceur Amelia's 
 next question, and I found myself almost trem- 
 bling for Hector, lest he should not like France, 
 and be obliged to answer No, to this question 
 also. If he did I knew Soeur Amclie would 
 be mortally offended, for she thought France 
 the most beautiful country in the world, and our 
 Chalosse the most beautiful part of France. 
 She prided herself specially upon this, because
 
 HECTOR. 29 
 
 it was her birthplace ; and she had good ground, 
 she always told us, for her opinion, having in 
 her youth seen other countries and having never 
 seen any to compare with the Chalosse. I 
 never knew what other countries she had seen ; 
 when I asked her, she used to say that they 
 were far away too far for me to know anything 
 about; but every one round Salaret said that 
 she had traveled, and we were all proud that 
 she should still hold so good an opinion of our 
 country. No one in the village would have 
 dared in her presence to make a disparaging 
 remark. 
 
 Fortunately, Hector did like France, and he 
 answered brightly, stretching his arm out to- 
 wards the fields : 
 
 " Yes, I like France, and I like that ; it is a 
 thousand times prettier than London. In Lon- 
 don we have only houses and streets and parks 
 and people everywhere. It is much cleverer, 
 you know ; but I like the country." 
 
 " Ah, you prefer the country ! And why so, 
 if there is more cleverness in London ? '' Soeur 
 Amelie was evidently a little piqued at the 
 implied imputation on country wits, and her 
 voice took a sarcastic tone. 
 
 But Hector did not notice it, and answered
 
 30 HECTOR. 
 
 quite innocently, " Oh, it is the people of course 
 who are much cleverer in London ; and I don't 
 like people in the country you can be alone." 
 
 His eyes fixed absently as he spoke on the 
 horizon. He seemed to fancy himself alone 
 already in the distant fields, and while Soeur 
 Amelie raised her hands, murmuring in despair : 
 " But those instincts are the instincts of a sav- 
 age" the song of a rising skylark caught his 
 ear, and he evidently did not hear what she said 
 for pleasure in listening to the bird. 
 
 There was no time for further conversation 
 between them, for a moment later Grand'mere 
 appeared at the house -door accompanied by 
 Hector's relations, and Hector was called to 
 say good-bye. 
 
 I did not fancy Hector cared much for his 
 aunts, though they seemed to speak kindly to 
 him and kissed him affectionately before they 
 got into the carriage. But I was more than ever 
 certain, when I witnessed the parting between 
 him and his grandfather, that he and the old 
 man loved each other. The grey head bent 
 down till it almost touched Hector's bright 
 golden hair. Hector's vigorous young arms 
 were fhrown round his grandfather's neck for 
 one hearty hug, and if it hadn't been for all
 
 HECTOR. 31 
 
 Grand'mere and Madelon said about the English 
 never showing their feelings, I could have fan- 
 cied that the eyes of both were moist. That, 
 however, was only for a moment. The next, 
 they were saying something very cheerful to 
 each other in English, which of course I did 
 not understand. The old gentleman pulled some 
 money out of his pocket, which he gave to Hec- 
 tor, then he got into the carriage : the footman 
 banged the door; and a few moments later the 
 only sign of their presence was our little Hector 
 whom they had left behind. 
 
 " Well, little lad," said Grand'mere putting her 
 hand upon his head, "you'll be very unhappy 
 for awhile, but you must not be discouraged for 
 that; you will become accustomed to us. Here 
 is the little one all ready to adore you. As for 
 me, I loved your mother, and her son at all 
 events is at home here." 
 
 Then Grand'mere and Sceur Amelie went in 
 together. We heard the buzz- of their talk for a 
 long time through the window, and later, when 
 I left Hector for a moment to go and get the 
 key of the corn-bin from Grand'mere for the 
 fowls' supper, I heard Grand'mere say in reply 
 to some criticism of Sceur Amelie's : 
 
 " Ah bah ! he has a good face and a vigorous
 
 32 HECTOR. 
 
 little body, and if he has his little individuality, 
 let him keep it. You are a saint, and you would 
 like to see us all conform to certain rules. I 
 am only a simple country-woman, who has never 
 stirred off her own land; but I go by what I see, 
 and in my experience it is the individuals who 
 achieve something, not the men whom Nature 
 turns out like buttons by the gross."
 
 II EC TOR. 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 T WOKE next morning with the joyous thought 
 that I had to show Hector our house ; and I 
 knew enough of him now to feel sure that he 
 would like it. I slept in a little room -inside 
 Grand'mere's, and at five o'clock in the summer 
 mornings Grand'mere used to open her windows 
 and mine. At half-past five she used to dress, 
 and before she went down, if I was not awake 
 she used to wake me, and pour the cold water 
 into my basin for me to wash. It was not sum- 
 mer yet, and the early morning hours were fresh 
 and'dark, so that though Grand'mere liked to be 
 up herself she used to let me lie in bed till half- 
 past six. But this morning I had no desire to 
 lie in bed. I was up and dressed before half- 
 past six ; and when I found Grand'mere in the 
 kitchen blowing the red embers under a sauce- 
 pan of steaming milk my enquiry whether Hec- 
 tor was to be called met with the answer I had 
 hoped for. 
 3
 
 34 HECTOR. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; go and wake him up." 
 
 I ran upstairs eager to see him again, but 
 when after knocking twice I softly opened his 
 door, I saw only the bedclothes thrown back 
 from the empty bed, and a little night-shirt lying 
 on the floor : Hector himself was gone. 
 
 " Well," grumbled Madelon, when I returned 
 to the kitchen, " up to what time would you like 
 him to stay in bed ? I called him at five o'clock. 
 I don't suppose he is to be more coddled than 
 you. He seemed to like his bed, allez. He was 
 well wrapped up in your new quilt." 
 
 " It is a good bed, I sorted all the feathers of 
 it myself," said Grand'mere. " It was perhaps 
 a little hard for the beginning, Madelon, to bring 
 him out of it so early." 
 
 "Bah! he. has a firm body. He can bear 
 some hardships," said Madelon; and I without 
 any more words slipped away to try and find 
 Hector. 
 
 He was nowhere in the house. I could not 
 find him in the garden or the farmyard, and 
 after awhile I set off to seek for him down the 
 lane. I had not far to go, for at the forge I 
 found him watching the smith light his fire, and 
 chatting at the door with a girl from one of the 
 m^tairies, who was on her way up to fetch the 
 milk.
 
 HECTOR. 35 
 
 He seemed to have known her all his life, he 
 had so much to say to her: and when I came 
 up I found he was telling her about the furnaces 
 he had seen in a great arsenal somewhere in 
 England. 
 
 I liked to hear about it, and the smith came 
 to listen too when he had finished lighting his 
 fire. 
 
 " Ha, it is interesting that; the little lad knows 
 how to speak," he said, as Hector went on to 
 describe the wonders of the great arsenal. 
 
 " That's what people achieve by joining 
 together. Now, here am I with good strong 
 arms." He rolled his shirt-sleeves higher as he 
 spoke, and looked down with pride on his well- 
 developed muscles. " Yes, and delicate fingers 
 too, for all that regards smith's work. And 
 there is Esquebesse the keeper, with head 
 enough for four. He lends me his ideas, he 
 explains to me what he wants. I lend him my 
 hands, I do for him what he explains, and crack! 
 a machine is made. He snares his foxes and 
 his weazels. The partridges thrive. I send 
 my little bill to M. le Comte. I have a few 
 francs to rattle in my pocket, every one is sat- 
 isfied ; and there we are friends, M. le Comte and 
 Esquebesse and I."
 
 36 HECTOR. 
 
 Esquebesse had come up the road with his 
 dogs while the blacksmith was talking, and it 
 was to him that the latter part of the speech 
 was addressed. They were a contrast to each 
 other, those two men. Esquebesse fair and 
 slight, with shoulders stooping a little forward 
 under his dirty brown velveteen jacket ; Pierre, 
 short and black and square, with knotted mus- 
 cles standing out on his bare arms and throat, 
 and a brawny chest exposed by the loose shirt 
 he always wore. And yet they were the great- 
 est friends. It was well known that Esquebesse 
 seldom failed to look in at the forge twice and 
 three times a week, and Pierre used to walk 
 over from Sainte-Marie-les-Bains as regularly as 
 Sunday came round to smoke a pipe with Esque- 
 besse in his lodge, at M. le Comte's gate. 
 
 Esquebesse smiled in his quiet way at Pierre's 
 notion of admitting M. le Comte as a third into 
 their friendship. 
 
 "You're right, Pierre," he said, "those who 
 don't serve one another are apt to hate each 
 other, and hatred is useless friction ; it is as bad 
 for the country as rust for the machine. If 
 there is anything which will hinder our old 
 France from working now, it is the hatred of 
 classes."
 
 HECTOR. 37 
 
 " La - has, in your arsenal they kept their 
 machines bright " asked Pierre. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Hector, " they couldn't have 
 any rust there," and he began to describe the 
 workshops, full of flashing steel and whirring 
 leather-bands, wheels going round, pistons work- 
 ing up and down, men and boys, hot, dirty, con- 
 centrated upon their work, feeding the powerful, 
 precise, indifferent machines with the materials 
 which passed through them from one stage to 
 another of perfection. 
 
 " That's fine, that," said Pierre, nodding at 
 Esquebesse. " And yet to say that it takes all 
 that to maintain an army." 
 
 " Oh, he's a famous monster, the army, and 
 eats easily not only all that, but all the best 
 blood of a nation into the bargain. In this 
 country," Esquebesse said with a smile to Hec- 
 tor, " we keep a pet dragon who gobbles up all 
 our young men. We regret them it is true, but 
 then he swells himself out and we are proud of 
 the size of our dragon. We pat his sides per- 
 petually, and from time to time we make him 
 take a great breath that we may see how big 
 he is." 
 
 " And when he has arrived at maturity we 
 use him to eat up the dragons of other nations,
 
 38 HECTOR. 
 
 or too unhappily, to be eaten up himself; and it 
 is very fine that," said a new voice, somewhat 
 bitterly, behind Esquebesse. 
 
 It was young Georges of the farm of Saint- 
 Loubouet, dressed in his soldier's uniform, and 
 so much improved in appearance since he went 
 away more than three years before to be a sol- 
 dier, that I scarcely recognized him. 
 
 But Irma recognised him well enough, for she 
 blushed very red under her capeline, and said at 
 once, just as though we did not all know now 
 why she had been dawdling at the forge that 
 morning: 
 
 " Allons, good day, M. Esquebesse, I must be 
 going on to fetch my milk." 
 
 Every one knew round Salaret that Georges 
 was Irma's lover. His father held a little farm 
 just on the other side of Grand'mere's estate to 
 the farm held by Irma's father, and there was 
 only Georges and his sister to divide the inher- 
 itance. Irma was one of a big family. Georges 
 had made love to her all his life, and though 
 there was no engagement between them, her 
 parents had been glad to promise that if Georges 
 came back of the same mind after he had served 
 his time with the army, they would give their 
 consent to an engagement then.
 
 HECTOR. 39 
 
 Some said now that the parents were sorry 
 they had given any promise, for Irma was very 
 young at that time, and she had grown up since 
 so pretty that she might have been married 
 many times over. But she had no wish herself 
 to marry any one but Georges. She said she 
 would rather wait for him. 
 
 I had often heard Sceur Amelie and Grand'- 
 mere talking about it, and I had never seen any 
 lovers together in my life before, so I looked 
 with all my eyes as Irma moved across the road 
 with her white woollen capeline falling back and 
 her curly dark hair shining in the sun, and 
 Georges said something to her in a low voice 
 which brought the color suddenly back to her 
 open countenance. 
 
 "There are two," said Esquebesse with a 
 smile, " who think like you, Pierre, that union 
 is strength." 
 
 " Ah ! I would be glad to see that union. He 
 comes back, poor lad, because he has heard 
 rumors at Montfort, and he is uneasy. But he 
 has no need, allez; she is safe that one. I have 
 kn^wn her from the cradle, and it is not every 
 woman that I would have encouraged the boy 
 to stake his happiness upon." 
 
 " But they say the other is rich, and that he
 
 40 If EC TOE. 
 
 is in love, the great idiot. And the parents 
 would sell their souls for a thousand francs 
 apiece." 
 
 " Ah bah ! union is strength, and I will wager 
 that for all her air of reserve, those two will find 
 means of laying their heads together before he 
 goes back to his regiment tomorrow." 
 
 " Those two " were separating now, and Irma 
 called to us, "You are coming, children?" So 
 we heard no more, but trotted up the lane with 
 her, leaving Georges behind in chat with his 
 uncle the blacksmith. 
 
 In the kitchen, Grand'mere was beginning to 
 wonder what had become of us, but the milk 
 was only just ready. As we appeared in the 
 doorway, Grand'mere set the big saucepan on 
 the plate which awaited it at one end of the 
 kitchen-table, and while Madelon served Irma 
 with the fresh milk she had come to fetch, 
 Grand'mere cut us each a great slice of corn 
 bread, and filled our bowls with the hot yellow 
 milk. When there were visitors at Salaret we 
 always had coffee. No one knew how to make 
 it better than Grand'mere ; but when we were 
 alone Grand'mere neither took it herself nor 
 gave it to any of us. 
 
 Hot milk and corn bread were good enough,
 
 HECTOR. 41 
 
 she said, for country folk; and Madelon and 
 Jean had their breakfast from the same loaf and 
 saucepan that furnished ours. 
 
 I was afraid Hector might not like such sim- 
 ple fare, but he broke his bread into his milk 
 just as I did mine, and ate it as though he had 
 never eaten anything else all his life. The only 
 part of our breakfast which he seemed to notice 
 was the pleasure of being allowed to sit and eat 
 it on the doorstep looking out over the farmyard 
 where the cocks and hens were already picking 
 up their breakfast, and the wet straw glistened 
 in the light of the newly risen sun. I always 
 ate my breakfast on the doorstep in the summer, 
 and Hector thought as I did that the bread and 
 milk tasted much nicer there than in the smoky 
 kitchen. 
 
 'Ah! how hungry I am," he said as he put 
 his bowl back empty on the table. 
 
 "You are hungry," said Grand'mere; "then 
 begin again and let us see what effect that will 
 have." Which he did to his own great satisfac- 
 tion and Grand'mere's. 
 
 "Madelon, you were right to wake him up at 
 five o'clock," she said. 
 
 "As if I didn't know it," replied Madelon. 
 "That's not the body of a sluggard." And by
 
 42 HECTOR. 
 
 that I understood that in spite of her sharp ways 
 Madelon was going to love him too. 
 
 Grand'mere liked no one to he idle, and after 
 breakfast I always helped a little in the house- 
 work ; so I presently lost sight of Hector, and 
 when Soeur Amelie came at nine o'clock, he was 
 not at first to be found. 
 
 " I am not astonished," she said to Grand'- 
 mere. " I greatly fear that it is a little savage 
 whom they have sent you; and we shall have 
 much difficulty in instructing him in anything 
 good." 
 
 " Go and look for him, Zelie, go and look for 
 him," was Grand'mere's only answer. " And 
 don't come back to say you can't find him. It 
 is ridiculous in this little house." 
 
 It occurred to me after awhile to look in the 
 drawing-room a room we never entered our- 
 selves unless we had visitors and there, at last, 
 I found him. He had opened one of the shut- 
 ters and the light thus admitted fell upon an old 
 bookcase, at the foot of which he sat upon the 
 floor reading so intently that he did not notice 
 my entrance. 
 
 " Sceur Amelie is here, Hector," I said. 
 " Will you come ? " 
 
 He paid no attention, but as I knew he must
 
 HECTOR. 43 
 
 have heard me, I contented myself with looking 
 over his shoulder while I waited. The book 
 seemed to me very stupid. It was a shabby 
 little volume bound in worm-eaten leather, and 
 the yellow pages were stained with damp. I 
 could not understand what Hector was reading 
 about; it was apparently a machine, and the 
 title written at the top of the page, " Avicepto- 
 logie Fran^aise," left me as much as ever in the 
 dark. I did not know what Aviceptologie meant, 
 and I soon grew impatient. 
 
 " Hector, Soeur Amelie does not like to be 
 kept waiting. Will you come ? " 
 
 " Eh, what ! What do you say ? Soeur Ame- 
 lie ? Look here Zelie. Didn't you say yester- 
 day that there were plenty of woodpeckers about 
 here ? " 
 
 " Yes, lots ; we will go out in the woods after 
 dinner, but come along with me now. And 
 Hector, you musn't open the drawing-room 
 shutters again without Grand'mere's leave ; the 
 sun spoils the furniture." 
 
 " And larks, Zelie ? Didn't you say there 
 were larks too ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, look here. Do you think we could 
 find a peach-stone, or an old leg of mutton bone 
 anywhere."
 
 44 HECTOR. 
 
 "Hector!" I exclaimed, in imploring tones, 
 "be good! I dare say we shall have stewed 
 peaches for dinner to-day, because it is Friday, 
 and then you can have a stone. But come now, 
 Soeur Amelie will be so vexed if you delay." 
 
 " Soeur Ame"lie ! Eh, Why ! Is she here ? 
 What does she want? Of course I'll go. 
 Where is she? " 
 
 It was the first time in my life that I had ever 
 been late for lessons. My books stood on a 
 little shelf in the dining-room, and when I saw 
 Sceur Amelie's cornette coming up the lane, it 
 had always been my habit to run and set chairs 
 for her and me, and put my books upon the table. 
 I never missed her, for from our door we could 
 see a long way over the country, and her white 
 headdress was so conspicuous in the morning 
 sun, that one of us was sure to note her coming 
 on the high road long before she turned into 
 our lane. 
 
 I was therefore already fluttered this morning 
 when lessons began, and soon I found that the 
 interest I took in Hector's proceedings was 
 stronger thari my best resolutions. I could 
 concentrate my mind on no work of my own. 
 Soeur Amelie wished to find out what Hector 
 knew. Could he read ?
 
 HECTOR. 45 
 
 " Yes, a little." 
 
 " Could he write ? " 
 
 "Very badly." 
 
 " Did he like arithmetic ? " 
 
 " No, he hated it." 
 
 " Was he good at geography ? " 
 
 " He had never learnt any." 
 
 " Had he studied well 1'Histoire Sainte ? " 
 
 He had never heard the phrase before, and 
 did not know what it meant ; but he supposed 
 ill history was holy because it was the account 
 of the struggles of men, and it made you see 
 how, in spite of everything, good men had made 
 the world grow better. 
 
 He had been answering listlessly before ; his 
 face flashed now into interest, and he was going 
 to say more when Soeur Am^lie interrupted him : 
 
 " It is evident that you understand little of 
 the true tendencies of history, and what I -am 
 asking you about now is Scripture history. You 
 have heard the Bible spoken of, no doubt. Well, 
 the Bible is not a book to put into the hands of 
 children, but all that is necessary for them to 
 know is told in 1'Histoire Sainte, in a purified 
 language, which presents no stumbling-blocks to 
 the understanding. If you have never studied 
 it, we must begin at once, for you have at your
 
 4& n E c T o /? . 
 
 age much lost time to repair. With politics and 
 worldly history we need not concern ourselves." 
 
 " How funny ! Yes, I suppose it wasn't 
 called politics in those days when the Israelites 
 asked for a king, and were told that they ought 
 not to want one." 
 
 Soeur Ame'lie looked surprised, and I thought 
 a little annoyed. " I don't know where you 
 have picked up your information," she said, 
 " but you have understood badly ; such a thing 
 never happened, the good God has been always 
 on the side of kings ; it is only the irreligious 
 who disregard their divine right, and would do 
 away if they could with everything that is 
 divine." 
 
 Hector did not seem to think she was in 
 earnest, for he laughed good-humouredly and 
 then saying, " It is quite clear, I'll show it to 
 you ; I remember exactly where it is," he 
 disappeared suddenly from the room. He 
 returned almost immediately, with a small 
 closely-printed book in his hand. "There it 
 is, you see ; just read that bit, about the great 
 wickedness they did in the sight of the Lord in 
 asking for themselves a king." 
 
 " It is in English," Soeur Amelie said, putting 
 the book from her with an air of reproof, " and I 
 don't read English."
 
 HECTOR. 47 
 
 " Oh, well, may Zelie run and fetch a French 
 Bible, and I'll show it to you in that? They are 
 very nearly the same, I have often compared 
 them." 
 
 "What? What do you say? Is that a 
 Bible?" exclaimed Soeur Amelie, suddenly 
 taking up the book with interest. "And you 
 have read it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have only read it all through once, 
 but I am going through it again now, and of 
 course I know a good many of the Psalms by 
 heart, and parts of the Gospels and Epistles, 
 and a good many chapters out of Isaiah and 
 Jeremiah, and some of Deuteronomy and Levit- 
 icus. I used not to care a bit for Deuteronomy 
 and Leviticus till grandpa taught me Egyptian 
 and Babylonian history ; and then it became so 
 interesting, you know, to trace the effects of the 
 Egyptians on the Jews, and of the Jews again 
 upon the Babylonians, that I learnt a good many 
 of the Jewish laws by heart. Have you ever 
 read the Apocrypha ? That's very interesting 
 too." 
 
 Sceur Amelie looked at him while he made 
 this unusually long speech, just as she might 
 have looked at some curious animal in the 
 Jardin des Plantes. She was too much aston-
 
 48 HECTOR. 
 
 ished to interrupt him, but as he ended her 
 indignation broke forth: 
 
 " No, indeed, at my age even I have never 
 permitted myself to read it ; and while you are 
 here, Hector, you shall not read it either. It is 
 an unheard of presumption for a child like you 
 to venture to read words which are often more 
 than the very wisest can understand. You are 
 perhaps too young to know, my poor child, what 
 dangers you have run, but here we will protect 
 you against the snares of the evil one. I will 
 take this book and put it in a place of safety ; 
 whenever you return to England it shall be 
 given to you again. If, as we all hope, that 
 time may be far distant, your mind will be per- 
 haps better prepared to receive its mysteries." 
 
 She said the last words very kindly, and 
 crossed herself with fervor as she slipped the 
 book into her pocket. 
 
 Hector did not attempt to rescue his book, 
 but stood and gazed at her for a moment with a 
 puzzled expression in his eyes. 
 
 " What did you say your religion was ? " he 
 asked as he sat down again quietly in his place 
 beside me. 
 
 " The Catholic religion," she replied. 
 
 "Oh ! then my aunts must be Protestants."
 
 HECTOR. 49 
 
 On this first day Soeur Amelie seemed to 
 think it would be well to examine him no 
 further, and after hjs display of unexpected 
 knowledge she gave him a piece of geography 
 and Histoire Sainte to learn by heart, and 
 turned her attention to me. 
 
 I suppose I was very trying that morning, for 
 I could not think of anything but Hector; and 
 Soeur Ame"lie was more irritable than I had ever 
 known her. Lessons ended for me in tears, for 
 Hector in nothing at all, for when Soeur Amelie 
 turned to him at the last moment to hear his 
 repetition he did not know one word of the 
 lesson she had set him. He had been thinking 
 of something else, probably, the whole time. 
 He wrinkled his brow, and looked vainly round 
 the room for inspiration. Nothing came ; Sceur 
 Amelie sat and waited with the book in her 
 hand. On his side only the blankest silence. 
 
 At last she threw the book down in vexation. 
 " I should not have wished to give punishments 
 on Hector's first day," she said, " but that sum 
 that Zelie is crying over must be done and these 
 lessons learnt before I come to-morrow. We 
 shall not advance much, Hector, if this is the 
 way you work." 
 
 Madelon's shrill voice from the kitchen-
 
 5 HECTOR. 
 
 " He ! ma Soeur, Pierre is harnessing. Make 
 haste!" cut short any more of the reproaches 
 she might with justice hate addressed to us, for 
 Pierre the blacksmith used always to give her a 
 lift back to the convent as he drove into Sainte- 
 Marie-les-Bains to dine with his old mother, and 
 she could not keep him waiting at the corner of 
 the lane, "Allons, don't cry, Zelie ; do your 
 sum now at once before dinner, and be better 
 children to-morrow." She kissed us then both 
 before she went, and a minute after we saw the 
 wings of her cornette flapping as she ran down 
 the lane in the sun. 
 
 I thought Hector would have said something 
 about her taking his book and being disagree- 
 able ; and I meant to defend her, because, 
 though she was a little cross sometimes, she was 
 always kind at heart, and I felt ashamed now 
 she was gone of having been so silly and 
 naughty. 
 
 But the instant she was out of the room 
 Hector seemed to forget all about her, and his 
 first question was : 
 
 " Do you really think we shall have stewed 
 ^caches for dinner, Zelie ? It isn't the time of 
 year for peaches now, is it ? " 
 
 " No, but Grand'mere puts them away ri tins
 
 HECTOR. 51 
 
 when they are plentiful, and we often do have 
 them on Fridays. Are you very fond of 
 peaches ? " I asked, wondering a little at what 
 seemed like greediness. 
 
 " I don't mind about the peaches one way or 
 the other, but I want the stones. You see this 
 man says," and he put up on the table the little 
 brown book he had been reading in the morning, 
 " that, with a peach-stone properly cleaned out, 
 and filed and pierced at both sides, you can 
 make a call perfectly resembling the cries of 
 larks. Of course I can make one with a mutton - 
 bone and a little wax, but I think the peach-stone 
 would be the nicest and the easiest too. And 
 look here, Ze"lie, I have been drawing on my 
 slate all the figures I could remember of the 
 implements a bird-catcher needs. Just you take 
 the book now, and see if I describe them rightly." 
 
 His slate was covered with little pictures of 
 knives, bill-hooks, awls, odd sorts of whistles, 
 things that looked like quivers full of arrows, 
 and various other tools which had no meaning 
 at all for me, till I saw that in the book he had 
 put into my hands there were a number of old 
 plates which corresponded with his drawings, 
 and were accompanied by full and minute 
 descriptions of the construction and uses of the
 
 52 II EC TOE. 
 
 implements they represented. Then he began 
 to describe to me how the things were made, 
 and what they were for, while I kept the book 
 open to see if he remembered rightly. He 
 explained to me that the word Aviceptologie 
 meant the science of catching birds, and even in 
 the short time he had had for reading, he had 
 found out so much about the habits of our 
 native birds, and the way to call them and the 
 way to catch them, and how to make the differ- 
 ent tools he needed, that I was quite fascinated 
 by hearing him repeat it all ; and we were both 
 still leaning over his slate when Madelon came 
 in to set the table for dinner. 
 
 " Ha, we are beginning to love our lessons, 
 are we ? " she remarked with a sharp glance at 
 the disorder of the table. " Formerly the table 
 used to be clear when I came to set the places. 
 It is very good to be studious, but it is good also 
 not to neglect our common duties." 
 
 I blushed to think how little I merited the 
 praise bestowed upon my diligence. My sum 
 was still unfinished, Hector's lessons were 
 unlearnt ; but we had to put our books away, 
 for Madelon's movements were very prompt, 
 and a few moments later the steaming soup- 
 tureen set down before Grand'mre's place 
 served as a signal that dinner was ready.
 
 HECTOR. 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 T TECTOR got his peach-stones at dinner, but 
 after dinner Grand'mere sent us to wipe 
 apples up in the fruit-loft, so we did not imme- 
 diately put them to any use. Grand'mere told 
 us that we might have the two best apples we 
 could find in each shelf we wiped, and as the 
 shelves were large, and we were both fond of 
 apples, we worked for a long time upstairs. We 
 had fairly earned at last three apples each, and 
 were bringing them down in glee to eat with our 
 gotiter out of doors, when I perceived that the 
 door leading to the* granaries was open, and I 
 took Hector in to show him the part of the 
 house which I liked best of all. The dwelling- 
 house at Salaret was built at one end of the 
 farmyard, at the other end was the great store- 
 house for the wine, and the room with the 
 presses and wine tanks all idle and dusty now, 
 but full of life and activity in the autumn, when 
 the sun had coaxed the bare brown vines into
 
 54 HECTOR. 
 
 fruit ; all along one side of the yard, connecting 
 the dwelling-house with the wine-rooms, ran a 
 succession of necessary outhouses, cowhouse, 
 dairy, laundry, stables, woodhouse, and above 
 them, for the whole length of the yard, ran the 
 granaries and hay-lofts. Grand'mere was very 
 proud of her granaries ; and well she might be, 
 for to this day, old as she is, she looks after her 
 metayers so well, that there is hardly a land- 
 owner in the cpuntry who has finer harvests 
 than she. She has only to look at a field and 
 she knows within a bushel or two how much 
 corn ought to come to her out of it ; she knows 
 how many quarts of wine to expect from every 
 vineyard, and she insists upon full measure ; yet 
 she is so just, and in her own way generous, to 
 the metayers that they never have cause for 
 complaint. I think they respect her all the 
 more because she will not allow them to cheat 
 her, and they know she is never hard in cases of 
 distress. I have often known her, when there 
 was occasion, give up her share of the produce 
 from a poor mStairie, and not only feed the fam- 
 ily through the winter, but give them their seed 
 corn in the spring. "When God is wielding 
 the scourge," she used to say, "we must help 
 each other to bear His blows with patience."
 
 HECTOR. 55 
 
 No one who serves Grand'mere would dare to 
 bring her a nonsensical tale ; but there is not 
 one of her metayers who does not feel in his 
 heart that he has a friend up at Salaret. 
 
 The granaries were not at their best on the 
 day Hector first saw them, for we had sold a 
 great deal of corn that winter. After the har- 
 vest they were always piled from floor to roof, 
 leaving only a path for the laborers to pass up 
 the middle. But Hector had never seen them 
 like that, and he admired them to my heart's 
 content just as they were to-day. Men were at 
 work in the middle room, giving out sacks 
 through the shoot to load a bullock cart, which 
 was drawn up in the yard below. In the first 
 rooms as we entered there was no light but that 
 which came from the tiled roof overhead, and 
 the soft broken rays fell pleasantly on the differ- 
 ent heaps of grain. The rye, the golden maize, 
 the more sobered colored wheat, the glistening 
 oats, were all equally beautiful, in my eyes, and 
 I pointed them out with pride to Hector. He 
 had never seen anything at all like it before, he 
 said, and his joy at jumping head foremost into 
 the thrashed corn, at swinging in the thrashing 
 machine, rolling on the silky yellow maize leaves 
 we found piled in another room ; burying me
 
 56 HECTOR. 
 
 and himself in the white husks from which the 
 grain had been beaten out, was a revelation of 
 future delight to me. I had never done any of 
 those things, because I had never had any one 
 to do them with ; but now I enjoyed it as much 
 as Hector did, and our laughter rang from room 
 to room. Grand'mere came up to see how the 
 men were getting on with the lading, and when 
 she saw my cheeks flushed and my hair full of 
 bits of straw, instead of being vexed, as I was 
 half afraid she might be, she patted my head 
 and said : " That's right, Hector ; give her 
 some exercise and make a child of her again. 
 She is so sober and staid, that I was beginning 
 to think they had cheated me with a grandchild 
 as old as myself." 
 
 Hector was likely, indeed, to give me plenty 
 of exercise. He was tumbling head over heels 
 down a heap of maize leaves, when all his peach- 
 stones fell out of his pocket and rattled about 
 the floor. 
 
 " But, yes, Ze"lie, I had forgotten ! The wood- 
 peckers ! " he exclaimed, as he picked them up. 
 " You promised to take me to the woods after 
 dinner. And where are our apples ? I think I 
 must eat them now; I am so awfully hungry 
 again."
 
 HECTOR. 57 
 
 This last was in rather a lower and somewhat 
 apologetic tone ; but Grand'mere heard it from 
 the room where she was busy. 
 
 "Go and get some gotiter f rom Madelon," she 
 called out. "And then you need not come up 
 again. I shall be locking the doors in a minute 
 or two." 
 
 I was hungry too to-day, as I never used to be 
 before Hector came, and we accepted gratefully 
 the bread and garlic Madelon gave us at the 
 kitchen door. Then Hector proposed that we 
 should take it to eat in the woods where the 
 woodpeckers were; and staying our appetites 
 as we went with an apple apiece, we started for 
 our first walk together. 
 
 As we went down the lane, Hector pulled his 
 peach-stones out of his pocket and began to 
 explain to me how he intended to make his 
 whistles ; but the operation turned out to be 
 less simple than he had thought, for at the very 
 beginning we were puzzled by the necessity for 
 piercing the stones before we could get at the 
 kernel to scrape it out. Hector was very 
 anxious to make them at once, in order to try 
 their effect down in the woods ; but it was only 
 the more tantalizing as we looked at the beauti- 
 fully marked impenetrable shell to reflect how
 
 58 HECTOR. 
 
 quickly and easily the nut inside could be dis- 
 posed of if we once succeeded in making the 
 holes we wanted. Hector had the book in his 
 pocket, and produced it. There was a little 
 engraving of the peach-stone as it ought to be 
 pierced on both sides, with a hole about the size 
 of a small lentil. There were instructions on 
 the opposite page to pierce it, and scrape it 
 out, and we were told that its goodness con- 
 sisted in the clear full note it gave. But before 
 that clear full note could be heard we had to find 
 means of boring the crisp and close-grained 
 wood. 
 
 " It's no use going any farther," Hector said, 
 " till I try if the small blade of my knife will 
 do it." 
 
 So we sat down on the mound at the bottom 
 of the lane, and our half-eaten apples rolled 
 unheeded into the dust, while we concentrated 
 all our energy and attention upon Hector's ope- 
 ration with the knife. But it was very slow and 
 not satisfactory ; sometimes the steel seemed to 
 make no impression on the wood, sometimes 
 chips of peach-stone broke off in unexpected 
 places ; and when I compared the jagged, untidy 
 scraping with the neat holes in the picture, I felt 
 sure that no clear full note would ever come out 
 of our peach-stone.
 
 " So we sat down on the mound at the bottom of the lane." PAGE 58.
 
 HECTOR. 59 
 
 Then at last, as I had been expecting all 
 along, the knife slipped, and the stone Hector 
 held was in an instant covered with blood from 
 his left hand. I screamed in dismay, and with- 
 out stopping his work, he looked up at me with 
 a curious smile. 
 
 " What a regular little French girl you are," 
 he said, " to scream at the sight of a little blood ! 
 What does it matter so long as we get the holes 
 made ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," I replied 
 indignantly, " by a regular little French girl. 
 French girls are not cowards only," and I found 
 my voice Quivering a little, though I did not 
 want it to ; "I thought you had hurt yourself." 
 
 " Go on with this," he said, " while I twist 
 my handkerchief round the cut." 
 
 He put the knife and the blood-stained peach- 
 stone into my hand. It made me feel sick to 
 touch it, and I suppose I was really in heart a 
 coward, for my hands shook with the terror I 
 felt lest the knife should slip again. But I 
 would not have refused for all the world. I 
 was determined he should not think through me 
 that French girls were cowards. I grasped the 
 peach-stone as tight as my trembling fingers 
 would hold it, and with an inward prayer, to
 
 60 EEC TOE. 
 
 St. Joseph to watch the knife I began- in my 
 turn to scrape. 
 
 I was rewarded. I had no sooner begun than 
 Hector very gently took the knife and peach- 
 stone from me. 
 
 " That'll do," he said, " the knife might slip 
 again, and I only wanted to see if you were 
 really brave, or if you were boasting, like most 
 girls. Perhaps I'd scream if you were cut ; it is 
 always worse seeing things done to other peo- 
 ple." I laughed at the thought of him scream- 
 ing, but I saw as I looked up that he had turned 
 very pale. 
 
 " Does it hurt much ? " I ventured anxiously, 
 for the cut was a deep one. 
 
 " No, not a bit. It is only the sight of blood 
 always makes me feel rather sick. That's why 
 I go on looking at it. It is so silly to mind 
 those things." 
 
 He had not, however, an opportunity for look- 
 ing at it much longer, for Georges of Saint- 
 Loubouet came out of the forge at that moment, 
 and seeing the stained handkerchief which Hec- 
 tor had unwound again from his hand, he 
 came and asked us what was the matter. We 
 explained what we had been trying to do, and 
 he solved our difficulty for us in a minute.
 
 EEC TOE. 6l 
 
 " Bind up your hand," he said to Hector, 
 " and come along in here. My uncle is the 
 man you want." 
 
 " Blow your fire," he continued good-naturedly 
 to his uncle as we passed into the forge, " I have 
 brought you a big job now. Here are two chil- 
 dren who want to pierce two peach-stones. They 
 began cleverly enough by piercing themselves, 
 but they forgot to swallow the peach-stones 
 first, so they are obliged now to have recourse 
 to you." 
 
 " Let us see let us see," said Pierre, work- 
 ing his bellows. And in five minutes more 
 Hector's peach-stones were all laid on the anvil, 
 where a red-hot nail worked by a master hand 
 soon made in them the holes we needed. 
 
 Georges left the forge as soon as he had put 
 us in his uncle's hands, but Pierre listened 
 good-naturedly to all Hector had to say about 
 the uses to which he intended to put his p.each- 
 stones, and looked at the engraving in order to 
 make our holes of the exact size. 
 
 "Tiens!" he said. "What one learns by 
 being able to read. Read me a bit now that I 
 may see how they say it in the book." 
 
 Hector read aloud as he was asked ; and I 
 wondered what he meant by saying to Sceur
 
 62 HECTOR. 
 
 Am&ie that he could only read a little. He 
 read beautifully, far, far better than I, and, I 
 thought, than Soeur Amelie either. 
 
 "That's fine that!" said the smith; "Ah, 
 Esquebesse is the man for you. He'd like to 
 see that book too, and he'll tell you all about 
 birds. He knows their haunts for twenty miles 
 round. Good-day, M. Baptiste ! " 
 
 The burly form of Baptiste the miller filled 
 the doorway. He wanted his horse shod, and 
 Pierre had to attend to him at once. He was 
 one of Grand'mere's well-to-do tenants. They 
 said in the neighborhood that, besides his mill, 
 he had saved at least four hundred pounds, with 
 which he had bought railway shares ; and though 
 his family had not held the mill for anything 
 like the number of generations that Georges' 
 family, for instance, had held the Saint-Lou- 
 bouet farm, he was not a new-comer, and he 
 was treated with consideration in the country. 
 He was past forty now, but he was not married, 
 and a single life seemed to agree with him. 
 His round, red, fat face beamed prosperously 
 above his blouse, and his comfortable propor- 
 tions and well-kept clothes spoke of no stint or 
 mismanagement at home. " They told me your 
 nephew Georges was here," we hearcl him say 
 as Pierre bent over the horse's hoof.
 
 HECTOE. 63 
 
 " He is out," Pierre answered shortly. 
 
 "Where has he gone?" 
 
 " As if I knew ! Gone up to pay his respects 
 to Madame Loustanoff very likely. He will be 
 back with me at six o'clock." 
 
 This last was with a good-humored, open air, 
 but as he came into the forge to fetch some nails, 
 Pierre said to us in a low quick voice, " You 
 are going down to the woods over there ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, if you see Georges, tell him the miller 
 is here inquiring for him. You won't forget?" 
 
 Without giving us time to answer he went 
 back to the shoeing of the miller's horse, but 
 though we did not understand why, we saw very 
 well that he did not wish our mission to be men- 
 tioned before the miller. We therefore said no 
 more about it as we followed him out of the 
 forge. Only as we stood for a moment to watch 
 the shoeing, Hector asked how much there was 
 to pay for our peach-stones. 
 
 " How much money have you got ? " asked 
 Pierre, laughing. 
 
 " I have plenty of money," said Hector, put- 
 ting his hand in his pocket and pulling out three 
 gold Napoleons, "but that hasn't anything to 
 do, has it, with what you ought to make me 
 
 pay?"
 
 64 HECTOR. 
 
 " It has generally a good deal to do with what 
 I make my customers pay. But keep your 
 money, my child, I don't want any." 
 
 " That is not the way to do business," said 
 the miller, as he puffed his cigarette; "I don't 
 approve of those generosities I don't say in 
 this case. What you have done is no doubt a 
 small thing, and then it is for Madame Loustan- 
 off ; but, as a rule, those who can't pay for things 
 should not want them, and you ruin yourself in 
 working for paupers." 
 
 " I am not as rich as you, M. Baptiste, but I 
 am rich enough; and, be easy, I'll make you 
 pay, at all events, for the work I do for you." 
 
 We all laughed at the fervor of Pierre's assur- 
 ance, and Hector said : 
 
 " You'd better let me pay too, for I'm sure 
 only to lose my money ; I nearly always do." 
 
 "Nonsense," said Pierre. "There's nothing 
 for you to pay. But that's a lot of money for 
 you to carry loose in your pocket. You ought 
 to give it to some one to keep." 
 
 " Well, then," said Hector, " will you keep it 
 for me ? Grandpapa gave it to me when he was 
 going away, and I'm certain to lose it unless 
 some one takes care of it." 
 
 " And what tells you that I am honest ? "
 
 HECTOR. 65 
 
 asked Pierre. " You have only known me since 
 this morning." 
 
 Hector paused a moment and considered 
 deeply. 
 
 " I think it's because you seem to care more 
 about other people than about yourself," he said 
 then, "and if you care more about them you 
 can't want to take their things." 
 
 "And I know you are honest," I said, 
 "because I have known you all my life." 
 
 " Allons, I'll, take your money," said Pierre, 
 "and keep it at all events till you come back 
 this evening. It would be a pity to lose it down 
 in those woods. And now be off; you haven't 
 a moment to spare if you want to catch any 
 birds before dark to-night."
 
 66 HECTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 "X \ 7E were soon down in the woods, and once 
 there, the interest of eating our godter 
 and of scraping out our peach-stones as a pre- 
 liminary to producing the promised clear, full 
 note which was to delude the larks, so absorbed 
 us that we thought no more of Pierre or the 
 miller, or the message given us for Georges. 
 We did not find the kernels of the stones very 
 easy to scrape out with a bent pin, which was 
 the only instrument we possessed small enough 
 to penetrate to the innermost corners of the 
 nutshell ; but with patience we succeeded at 
 last, and then we sat on the stump of an old 
 chestnut-tree and whistled till our cheeks ached 
 with blowing and our sides with laughter. I 
 need not say that our notes were not in the 
 least like the notes of larks. If they were clear 
 and full, that virtue was due to the healthy state 
 of our own lungs and throats; the peach-stones 
 counted for very little in the sounds which we
 
 HECTOR. 67 
 
 produced. But when we had laughed our fill, 
 and I had grown tired of trying to whistle, Hec- 
 tor became serious, and pulling the "Avicepto- 
 logie " out of his pocket, applied himself in ear- 
 nest to learn the lark-call. The book gave exact 
 directions about the manner in which the whistle 
 should be held; and after a time, whilst I 
 amused myself looking through the plates and 
 asking questions which remained all unanswered, 
 Hector, with reiterated endeavors, succeeded in 
 drawing a note from the peach-stone itself. 
 
 His face flushed with pleasure. " It's not a 
 good note, and it's not much like a lark's cry," 
 he said, " but it is a note made with the peach- 
 stone. Listen ! when I whistle without the 
 stone the sound it quite different." 
 
 It was true ; and his perseverance had roused 
 my listlessness into renewed interest. I did not 
 attempt to produce the sound myself, but I 
 made him try it again and again, till he was 
 quite sure of it, and we were both of opinion 
 that it really was growing clear and full. 
 
 " Now," he said, " the thing to do is to find 
 out where some larks live, that we may come 
 and listen to them every day and try to imitate 
 their sounds. They might very likely be build- 
 ing now ; the end of March and April is their
 
 68 HECTOR. 
 
 time, and the young birds won't be out till May ; 
 so we should have good opportunities." 
 
 " How did you find out so much about birds, 
 Hector ? " I asked. " Did your grandfather 
 teach you that too ? " 
 
 " Hush ! No. You can learn anything you 
 like, when you know how to read. Don't chat- 
 ter, I want to listen." 
 
 It was late now in the afternoon. The sun 
 was so low that the shadows of the trees crossed 
 each other in long drawn-out perspective over 
 the patches of shining white and mauve anem- 
 ones and green tufts of daffodil spikes which 
 broke the russet of last year's fallen leaves, and 
 the wood was alive with the cries of little birds 
 going to roost. Sweet and harsh, clear and 
 muffled, low and shrill, they answered each other 
 across the hollow, till we could have believed 
 that every bud and branch had its voice and that 
 the trees were singing in chorus. 
 
 In such a confused medley of sound, I could 
 not have distinguished any special note with the 
 least hope of following it up; but after listening 
 attentively for a few moments, Hector made me 
 a sign to follow him, and began to steal away 
 on tiptoe over the leaves. At last, I too fancied 
 I heard amongst the other sounds a low sweet
 
 HECTOR. 69 
 
 note down in the hollow, which was repeated 
 from time to time; and stopping occasionally to 
 listen, we made our way down into the thicker 
 part of the wood where the path wound through 
 it to the village. As we reached the place 
 whence we thought the bird's song proceeded, 
 the .sound ceased; but Hector stopped by a 
 spreading daphne-bush and whispered : 
 
 "-It was a woodlark, and I'm sure it came from 
 somewhere near here ; but perhaps it won't sing 
 while it sees us. Let us get under this bush 
 and wait." 
 
 " Serpents ! " I whispered in an agony as I 
 saw him lifting the low boughs of the daphne; 
 but his only answer as he slid underneath the 
 glossy screen was an indifferent " Don't come." 
 
 He did not take the trouble to look at me, 
 but I fancied the expression of his face the 
 same as when he had called me " a regular little 
 French girl ; " and after a moment of desperate 
 struggle with myself I stooped and whispered, 
 " Is there room enough for me, Hector? " 
 
 " Plenty," he answered ; and I wriggled in 
 beside him. 
 
 " Plenty of room for you, and a few serpents 
 too," he said. But this time he spoke kindly, 
 and though I shook with fear I felt quite happy.
 
 70 HECTOR. 
 
 Finding that I remained unbitten, I became 
 convinced after a few moments that we had 
 intruded upon no serpent's nest, and as Hector 
 curled himself round on one side of the daphne- 
 stem, breaking off a few small branches to make 
 room for his head, I followed his example on the 
 other side, till we were soon established in the 
 greatest comfort like two little tailors under a 
 tent. Hector had his peach-stone ready, and 
 we listened in silence for the "tark. We waited 
 very patiently, but it did not sing again ; and 
 presently, instead of the notes of the lark, we 
 heard the sound of steps approaching; and 
 human voices, speaking low, came to us through 
 the trees. 
 
 "Because, listen to me, Irma," a voice was 
 saying which we recognized directly as that of 
 Georges. " It is that I have loved you so long 
 I can't get over the habit now, and if you play 
 me false, I must go away and begin a new life. 
 I shall care no more for Saint Loubouet, if all 
 its fields are to remind me of you when you are 
 married to some one else. If I cannot share 
 my little comforts with you, it is no use to me 
 that I am my father's only son. I shall only be 
 sorry that he must be left childless and desolate 
 in his old age ; for you know me, Irma ; you
 
 HECTOR. 71 
 
 have known me since I was a little boy, and you 
 know I am too fiery to live here if you marry 
 any other man than me. It would be stronger 
 than I. I will volunteer when my time is up 
 for an African regiment, and perhaps out there, 
 with the sea between us, I shall manage to for- 
 get you." 
 
 " But no, Georges," Irma said. " It will not 
 be I who will send you over the sea." 
 
 " They're nYaking love ! " Hector whispered 
 to me with excitement quite as great as my own ; 
 and without the least thought of our indiscre- 
 tion, we put our two heads together and peeped 
 through an opening in the daphne -leaves as 
 silently and cautiously as if we had been watch 
 ing the proceedings of the woodlark itself. They 
 were walking down the path together. Irma 
 had her distaff in her belt and she was spinning 
 as she went ; but she did not seem to me to be 
 thinking much of the evenness of her thread. 
 Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark eyelashes 
 wet with unusual tears. Georges' face was 
 turned towards her. He seemed to be very 
 much in earnest. 
 
 "I tell you all that, Irma," he said, "just 
 that you may know. For when I was away at 
 Montfort and I heard rumors, I lay awake think-
 
 /2 HF.VTOR. 
 
 ing, and I thought it's a long time since she has 
 seen me, and perhaps she thinks I am forgetting 
 her, and that it will make no difference ; and 
 then I thought to myself, it is only fair to let 
 her know the difference it will make ; for I know 
 you have a good heart, Irma, and you love my 
 father, and you promised to be a daughter to 
 him. Then, if you marry some one else, you 
 rob him of both his children. And you who 
 have known him all your life, you know it would 
 break his heart for the land to go after him to 
 some other than me. We have held that land 
 of the Loustanoffs now, from father to son, near 
 four hundred years. I love the land too, Irma. 
 It is there I was born ; it is near there my 
 mother is buried. I had always hoped to live 
 there with you, and that the old man would see 
 our little ones about him there before he died. 
 And when I was lying awake thinking at Mont- 
 fort, I thought, she has a good heart ; she would 
 not work this ruin if she knew the difference it 
 would make. I can't impose* upon you to make 
 you think me better than I am, for you have 
 known me all my life. I don't know how to 
 speak well, Irma, and I know I am not much 
 myself for you to be faithful to ; but it is, do you 
 see, that you promised the old man to be his
 
 HECTOR. 73 
 
 daughter, and that it would make such a differ- 
 ence." 
 
 He stopped nearly opposite the daphne-bush, 
 seeming to entreat an answer, and she put her 
 hand out to him and said, as she looked up with 
 the color mounting in her cheeks: 
 
 " It is that you are much to me, Georges. It 
 is not because I have promised the old man, but 
 because I have promised you yourself that I 
 will be faithful to you." 
 
 Georges squeezed the little brown hand she 
 gave him. 
 
 "Ah! Irma," he said, "if you knew the good 
 it does me to hear you. You don't understand 
 that, you, but when a man is far away and he 
 lies there thinking, and they have told him how 
 all the men at home, cleverer and richer than 
 he, are trying to get his sweetheart, and he 
 thinks how he is stupid and plain, with nothing 
 to recommend him and that she is growing pret- 
 tier and prettier every day, then it is like a 
 great sickness here to think she will not stick to 
 him. And when I come home to find you 
 remember still. Ah ! it makes a baby of me." 
 He dashed his hand across his eyes, and then 
 they walked on again side by side. 
 
 The next thing we heard was Irma's voice :
 
 74 HECTOR. 
 
 " I only say to you what I say to every one. 
 I will never marry any other man but you 
 unless I am forced into it against my will." 
 
 " Unless you are forced into it ! How can 
 they force you if you choose to say No?" 
 
 " Ah ! Georges, you know we must obey our 
 parents, and they make my life hard, allez, 
 because I have waited for you. But they gave 
 their promise themselves to wait till your time 
 was up, and I will hold out till then." 
 
 " It will not be long now, only ten months 
 more; and I shall be here in the autumn with 
 the soldiers." 
 
 " You will not fail, Georges ? " 
 
 " Fail ! how should I fail ? The whole of the 
 1 8th Corps will move, and the manoeuvres are 
 to extend over this very ground. It will be hard 
 indeed if we don't meet. Who knows but I 
 may be quartered in your very house ! " 
 
 " It is my father who will be pleased in that 
 case. He who loves soldiers so much ! " They 
 both laughed aloud a merry, light-hearted laugh. 
 
 " It is all one," said Georges, " I don't love 
 them myself much more than he, and he will 
 like me again when he sees you at St. Loubouet." 
 
 " But, Georges, if you were kept at Montfort ? " 
 
 " I shall not be kept at Montfort. My Col-
 
 HECTOR. 75 
 
 onel is kind to me ; he knows that my home is 
 here, and only yesterday he told me to tell my 
 parents I should see them again in the autumn." 
 
 " I know you are his orderly, and he favors 
 you your father told me that ; but if he were 
 to keep you with him at Montfort ? It is that 
 Georges, I shall want you in the autumn. The 
 busy season will be here soon, and there will be 
 no more question of marriages now till the har- 
 vests are over ; but I will speak frankly to you ; 
 you know how it is at the Saint-Martin. They 
 ask my father, and it is not easy to say No whe',i 
 every one is against you. And then and then 
 they say you have your cousin at Montfort, and 
 that you go to see her every Sunday ; and they 
 laugh at me to wait for a man who does not 
 think of me. And I do not believe a word of 
 it, but it vexes me to hear her spoken of so 
 much." 
 
 " Ha ! they tell you 'that, do they ? Well, it 
 is true that I spend part of every Sunday with 
 my uncle, and I see Marie there when I go. 
 But it is not true that I think once of her in the 
 week between whiles, and if you like better, 
 Irma, for me to stay in barracks on Sunday after- 
 noons I will stay in barracks." 
 
 " No, Georges, I am not so selfish ; and,
 
 76 HECTOR. 
 
 besides, I trust you. But you will not fail me 
 when the soldiers come." 
 
 " Listen, Irma ! " They stood still again. 
 Georges raised his head, and then we heard the 
 woodlark's cry. " You know that call well. One 
 day, when the soldiers are here, you will be 
 spinning in the porch, and you will hear it three 
 times, thus." 
 
 We listened, and heard the woodlark call its 
 mate, as Georges said, three times before we 
 fully understood. Then, as it dawned upon 
 Hector that Georges was the lark we had been 
 tracking, he shook so with suppressed chuckling, 
 that I was afraid the rustling of the branches 
 would betray our presence. I suppose, however, 
 that Georges was thinking only of Irma, and 
 Irma only of Georges, for they paid no atten- 
 tion, though the daphne-leaves shook under their 
 very eyes. 
 
 " And when you hear it," Georges continued, 
 "you will come down spinning into the wood, 
 where you will not be long alone." 
 
 My position under the daphne-bush was be- 
 coming intolerably uncomfortable. In kneeling 
 up to peep at the two lovers I had put myself 
 into a strained attitude, which forced me to 
 throw nearly all my weight upon a branch, on
 
 HECTOR. 77 
 
 which my right hand rested. My arm and back 
 were aching, my head was twisted, some twigs 
 upon which I knelt were pressed most painfully 
 into my knee. I felt that in another moment I 
 must move, cost what it would, when suddenly 
 the branch upon which I was leaning gave way, 
 and crash through the lower twigs I went to the 
 ground. Hector's hand griping my frock firmly 
 at the waist, alone prevented me from rolling 
 ignominiously out at the feet of Georges and 
 Irma. Hurt as I was, I had the presence of 
 mind to stifle the exclamation which rose to my 
 lips, and while Georges and Irma, startled at the 
 extraordinary and unexpected sound, looked, 
 fortunately for us, in every direction but the 
 right one first, Hector and I lay trembling, we 
 scarcely knew whether most with laughter or 
 most with fear, upon the ground. 
 
 Had they stayed five minutes longer they 
 must have discovered us, but Irma was fright- 
 ened by the noise ; and though Georges assured 
 her it was but a squirrel, or perhaps a weasel 
 chasing a rabbit through the bushes, she said 
 that it was time for her to be going home. The 
 sun was low, and her father would be angry if 
 she were seen out in the dusk. 
 
 "But, Georges, listen no more to what they
 
 78 n EC TOT?. 
 
 say at Montfort. I will wait for you, and, if 
 anything should keep you in the autumn, you 
 will write to your uncle and he will let me 
 know." 
 
 " I will not fail," said Georges. " I will write 
 to my uncle Pierre, and as he cannot read, it is 
 you whom he will ask to read his letter to him. 
 I will arrange all that ; but he is sharp, 1'oncle 
 Pierre, he needs no telling." 
 
 They were walking away while they spoke, 
 and now they turned a corner which took them 
 out of our sight. In an instant Hector and I 
 were out of our hiding-place. 
 
 " I would like to know how long he took to 
 learn that lark-call," said Hector; "let's see if 
 it was like this." Hector made a call as he 
 spoke upon his peach-stone ; but my mind was 
 too full of Irma and Georges to listen. 
 
 " I wonder if Pierre's message had anything 
 to do with that" I said, nodding my head after 
 the two lovers, and full of importance at the 
 thought that we were being used perhaps in 
 such great matters. 
 
 " He said we were to be sure and not forget, 
 let us run across and give it to them before 
 they get up en the high-road. They will never 
 guess that we come from here."
 
 HECTOR. 79 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A CIRCUIT through the woods brought us 
 in a minute or two face to face with 
 Georges and Irma. The consciousness of our 
 knowledge caused us to blush guiltily as we 
 delivered our message, but I could see by the 
 effect it had upon them that we were right to 
 have carried out Pierre's instructions. They 
 both looked embarrassed, and when Irma said 
 " Then I won't go on with you, Georges," he 
 made no attempt to persuade her. 
 
 I was so fascinated by my interest in these 
 real living lovers, that I would have stood there 
 open-mouthed to stare at them as long as they 
 remained together, if Hector had not pulled my 
 dress and walked on himself in leisurely fashion 
 down the path. 
 
 " What were you staying there to look at 
 them for ? " he said. " They couldn't say good- 
 bye while you were there." 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked innocently. 
 
 " Because Georges must go down on his knees
 
 8o HECTOR. 
 
 to kiss her hand, or they must fall into each 
 other's arms, or something like that ; lovers 
 always do when they bid each other good-bye, 
 and they couldn't you know, while you stood 
 staring at them." 
 
 " How do you know lovers always do that ? " 
 
 " Oh, because I have read about them in the 
 library at home, lots of them, and they always 
 do. At least, I don't know though ; perhaps it 
 is only gentlemen lovers. Sir Charles Grandi- 
 son and the lovers I have read about are all gen- 
 tlemen, and I don't believe Georges is such a 
 fool." 
 
 This thought seemed rather to relieve Hector's 
 mind, and he said, after a minute's reflection, 
 " When I marry, I don't intend to marry a lady." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 ' Because a girl like Irma is much better. 
 Ladies scream and wring their fair white hands, 
 and think it is grand to pretend they don't care 
 about you a bit when you are making love to 
 them. Now, Irma was nice and kind to Georges, 
 and then she went on spinning all the time, and 
 that's so much more useful. Ladies can read 
 and write a little more than Irma, but they don't 
 know anything much, and they can't do any 
 work, and I don't see any good of having a wife 
 unless she can be of some use to you."
 
 HECTOR. 8l 
 
 " Hector," I said, as we approached the edge 
 of the wood, " what funny books you seem to 
 have read the Bible and novels and Babylonian 
 history." But my remarks on Hector's reading 
 were cut short by the whining voice of a tramp 
 whom I had noticed hanging about the forge 
 when we were there. 
 
 " Could the little gentleman give him a sou ? " 
 he asked ; he was hungry, and he had wilked a 
 long way. 
 
 Hector thrust his hand into his pocket, but 
 pulled it out empty. 
 
 " I forgot," he said, " of course I gave all my 
 money to the blacksmith to keep ; what a pity. 
 No, I have nothing for you." 
 
 " Yes, that's it. We have gold pieces for our- 
 selves and nothing at all for the starving," re- 
 plied the man, with sudden change of voice and 
 an evil look. " You think perhaps that I an} 
 going to believe what you like to say to me, but 
 I am not such a fool." As he spoke he sud- 
 denly approached and seized Hector by the col- 
 lar. " Now then, what have you in the bottom 
 of your pockets ? " 
 
 Hector's answer was two swift blows, one 
 after the other as fast and as hard as he could 
 hit, straight up into the man's face. He was a 
 6
 
 82 HECTOR. 
 
 great lusty fellow, about three times as big as 
 Hector, and when I saw the wicked angry light 
 that flashed into his eyes as he raised his stick, 
 I was so terrified that the shriek I uttered 
 must have been heard up at Salaret. 
 
 Down came the stick. If it had struck Hec- 
 tor as he intended, there would have been no 
 need for another blow ; but Hector had slipped 
 in some wonderful way between his legs. The 
 force with which he had struck only served to 
 make the man lose his balance, and before he 
 had recovered himself, the hand of Pierre the 
 blacksmith was on his collar, his stick had been 
 wrested from him, and with all the strength and 
 adroitness of a right arm accustomed to use the 
 hammer, Pierre was belaboring him with blows. 
 I could not bear to see it, even though the man 
 had struck Hector. " Enough, Pierre," I im- 
 plored, " enough, you will kill him ! " But 
 Pierre paid no attention to me, and I hid my 
 face in my hands to shut out the horrible sight. 
 
 " Let me alone for hitting. I am not a 
 blacksmith for nothing, and I know how to 
 regulate my blows. He has had his lesson 
 good, he'll remember it too, allez, for some time 
 to come, but there's not a bone in his body 
 broken. That'll teach you to come prowling in
 
 HECTOR. 83 
 
 our woods, and to make attempts to rob children 
 who can't defend themselves. I heard every 
 word that passed, you villain ; and if ever I 
 catch you off the high-road in Madame Loustan- 
 offs's land again, you will receive the like at my 
 hands." Pierre's voice warned me that the 
 chastisement was over, and I looked up to see 
 the unfortunate beggar sitting on the ground 
 while Pierre stood over him stick in hand, but 
 as cool as if he had just beaten out a horse-shoe 
 on his own anvil. Esquebesse had sauntered up 
 with his two dogs, and was calmly smoking over 
 the scene. Hector alone seemed as much moved 
 as I ; with a face as white as marble and eyes 
 strangely bright, he stood with his hands in his 
 pockets, gazing at Pierre. I could see that he 
 had not missed one detail. The corners of his 
 mouth were drooping, but if the face was as 
 white, it was as firm as marble too. I wondered 
 what he thought of it all. He did not speak. 
 
 " You hit hard, Pierre," said Esquebesse. 
 
 " I was right," said Pierre. " Empty your 
 pockets ! " The tramp obeyed without a word. 
 I was surprised to see him so submissive. In 
 one pocket, beside his knife, there was a heavy 
 bundle which clanked as he threw it out. In 
 obedience to a gesture from Pierre he unfastened
 
 84 HECTOR. 
 
 the knotted corners, and displayed a heap of 
 halfpence which must have been worth several 
 francs. From his other trousers pocket he 
 pulled a folded newspaper, and as he turned the 
 pocket inside out he tried to slip up his sleeve 
 some silver and a ten franc piece which Pierre's 
 quick eyes instantly discovered. In his blouse, 
 a flask and a half-eaten roll with a good slice of 
 ham between its crusts, had been thrust out of 
 sight, beneath his dirty handkerchief. 
 
 We children looked on stupefied. 
 
 " You see," Pierre said to Esquebesse, " he is 
 a vicious rogue. He is not poor, he is not 
 hungry, and he would have used violence to 
 steal from these children. I am for justice, and 
 where there is crime I would have chastisement. 
 It is that," and he pointed to the wretched 
 creature on the ground, "which is the ruin of us 
 honest people. He will not work, but he must 
 eat fine bread and ham, and there are thousands 
 like him. They agitate the country, and we 
 honest people dare not move, for we know well 
 that filth is there at the bottom, asking nothing 
 better than to disseminate itself if it is stirred." 
 
 Esquebesse took his pipe out of his mouth 
 and slowly puffed away a mouthful of smoke. 
 "You are right," he said; "it is they who ruin 
 us. Who ruins them ? "
 
 HECTOR. 85 
 
 Pierre looked at him for a moment in silence, 
 and then turned to the tramp. 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " he asked. 
 
 " From Tarbes." 
 
 " Before that ? " 
 
 " From Bayonne. 
 
 " You were born in the South ? " 
 
 " No, I am a Parisian ; " and the man looked 
 up for the first time with something like a gleam 
 of pride. 
 
 " A famous Parisian ! What are your par- 
 ents?" 
 
 " Is that your business ? It is nothing to 
 you who are my parents." 
 
 " Answer," said Pierre. 
 
 " I know nothing of them. I have been told 
 that I was born at the factory." 
 
 Esquebesse had taken up the newswaper and 
 was looking at it. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "that's it, born in the factory, 
 of unknown parents ; and afterwards they are 
 nourished with stuff like this." He read aloud 
 as he spoke from the newspaper : 
 
 " ' The people is above the law, it is for the 
 people now to efface with its broad foot the law 
 which it has written in the sand.' And those 
 are not the words of an obscure newspaper
 
 86 H EC TOR. 
 
 writer; they are words spoken out .in the 
 daylight before all France by a man who 
 aspires to the position of a leader. 
 
 "Ah! we want leaders. We are like sheep 
 without any shepherds. Is it astonishing that 
 wolves slip in amongst us ? In England," (and 
 he turned to Hector,) " the old aristocracy have 
 not abandoned the people so, they have kept 
 their rightful place; they work for the 'people 
 and with the people ; they are the leaders ; they 
 employ their leisure in gaining knowledge, and 
 their knowledge is at the service of the country. 
 When I was young, I went to England with M. 
 le Comte, and I saw your aristocracy. You 
 have your share of young idlers and dandies, 
 but it is not they, with all their glitter, who 
 uphold your nobility. You have still in your 
 great English families gentlemen who would 
 hold themselves disgraced if they did not work 
 harder for their country than any of the laborers 
 they daily see work for themselves. That is 
 what I understand by a true aristocrat, and that 
 is how your country is kept straight. Each 
 class does its own work. Those who have 
 instruction lead, those who know little follow, 
 We have made noble efforts, we French people. 
 but here, now for more than a hundred years,
 
 HECTOR. 87 
 
 our aristocracy has failed us. We, who know 
 nothing, have been forced to put ourselves 
 forward. Ambition was soon mixed in it, and 
 what has been the result ? convulsion after 
 convulsion hope lifting the nation, and then 
 despair. It is for those whose fortune and 
 position is assured to stand in the front. They 
 can disengage their mind from the thought of 
 reward. But when the personal ends to be 
 gained are too great, who can say that his eyes 
 would not be dazzled by the flash of vainglory, 
 nor his hand turned aside to grasp power for 
 himself?" 
 
 Esquebesse replaced his pipe in his mouth, 
 and drew from it a long whiff of srnoke. The 
 man at his feet sat without attempting to rise, 
 or to collect the contents of his pockets, which 
 lay scattered on the dead leaves around him. 
 Dirty, unshaven, ragged, the top of his head 
 bald, and the long hair around falling over his 
 ears and the collar of his coat, he seemed to 
 wait, with eyes cast down, the further pleasure 
 of his captors. I was glad he did not raise his 
 eyes, for 1 was so full of curiosity I could not 
 help looking at him, and I dreaded at the same 
 time to see that wicked expression again. 
 
 Esquebesse seemed to take no more account
 
 88 HECTOR. _ 
 
 of his presence than if he had been a dead rabbit 
 or a weasel. " I never see an idle rogue like 
 that," he said, "without thinking of the idle 
 gentlemen who have abdicated their rights. 
 There are some who would say it does not 
 concern me, but as one gets old, tranquilly in 
 the depths of one's woods the mind has leisure 
 to occupy itself with many things ; and you, my 
 little gentleman, it concerns you. Look well at 
 that man. Fix him in your memory as he is 
 there, with his money and his white bread, and 
 his newspaper which bids him efface the law, for 
 such as you see him, with his attempt to steal on 
 his conscience, he represents crime. It is per- 
 haps the first time you have seen it, and you 
 don't understand much of these things yet, but 
 keep it in your mind. There is matter there for 
 plenty of useful reflection." 
 
 Hector's eyes had been fixed on Esquebesse 
 while he spoke. He looked down now as though 
 literally obeying the keeper's directions. I 
 looked down too at the man sitting, as I have 
 described, on the leaves, with rounded back and 
 downcast impenetrable face. In the midst of the 
 silence, not knowing that we were all watching 
 him, the man raised his head a little and flashed 
 a glance at Pierre. It was as though he had
 
 HECTOR. $9 
 
 suddenly opened to us the wickedness of his 
 soul ; his eyes were so keen, so cunning, and so 
 malevolent, that they seemed to bring you face 
 to face with hate and revenge and cruelty. I 
 shuddered from head to foot as I met them. He 
 perceived that we were all looking at him. 
 Instantly the eyelids dropped again, and the 
 face was but a stolid mask once more ; but as I 
 looked over at Hector I could see by his strange, 
 interested, horror-stricken expression that he too 
 had caught the glance, and that he felt crime 
 was terrible. 
 
 " Aliens ! " said Pierre, " enough has been 
 said. It matters little to me where evil comes 
 from or where it goes. I thrash it when I catch 
 it under my hand, and that is what I counsel all 
 honest folk to do. Get up now," he added to 
 the tramp, "and since I have given you the 
 occasion to use it, I will give you also a little oil 
 to rub yourself with before you go any further. 
 Pick up your money. None of us would soil our 
 fingers with stolen coin." 
 
 The man seemed stiff and sore, but we stood 
 fascinated and watched till every coin was 
 picked up, and his knife and his roll and his 
 newspaper replaced in the pockets from which 
 they had come. Then as he turned to follow
 
 go HECTOR. 
 
 Pierre and Esquebesse to the forge we sped up 
 the darkening lane, I at all events seized with 
 sudden fear, and not daring to look behind me 
 till I reached the shelter of the porch. From 
 there, as I glanced round, I saw the figures of 
 three men dark against the red lights of the 
 forge, and Georges inside quietly lighting his 
 pipe with a glowing cinder. But I had no 
 desire to watch them farther ; I was too glad to 
 run down the passage and find myself in our 
 own safe kitchen, where Madelon was busy with 
 her saucepans and Jean was washing his hands 
 at the sink in preparation for his supper.
 
 HECTOR. 91 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 R AND'MERE sat in the dining-room knit- 
 ting by the little fire, which we still 
 enjoyed in these chilly spring evenings. The 
 door was open between the dining-room and the 
 kitchen, so she called to us when she heard our 
 voices, and we went in and told our story. 
 Madelon came in too to lay the .cloth for supper, 
 and her indignation was great at the recital. 
 What excited her most was that our beggar 
 should have had white bread to eat. 
 
 "Ah! the villain," she said, "yes, that's how 
 it is ; we honest people work and deny ourselves, 
 and think corn bread good enough for every day, 
 and the rascals who are not worth feeding live 
 on the fat of the land. Ah, Tenez, they speak 
 much of Providence ; if I had the arrangement 
 of things, it would not be the good-for-nothings 
 who should eat white bread." 
 
 But Grand'mere put on her spectacles and 
 looked sharply through them at Madelon.
 
 92 IIECTOK. 
 
 " That's well," she said, " that's very well ; 
 that's the way we should speak before children ! 
 Fi done, mademoiselle, I should have thought 
 you had more good sense." 
 
 Madelon was close upon forty at this time, 
 but she had lived with us already for twenty 
 years, and when Grand'mere was vexed she 
 always spoke to her as though she was still a 
 little girl. On this occasion Madelon said no 
 more, but began to wind up the lamp on the 
 sideboard and Grand'mere continued to us : 
 
 " Did that man seem happy to you with his 
 white bread and his smoked ham ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " we both cried at once. 
 
 " If you had each a piece of corn bread and 
 garlic to go and eat in the woods, would you 
 not have been far happier than he ? " 
 
 We thought of how we had enjoyed ourselves 
 down in the woods that very afternoon, and we 
 told of the fun that we had had. 
 
 " And the reason of that difference," Grand'- 
 mere pursued, "is that you are innocent, and 
 he is guilty. For remember well this, children, 
 that he who abandons his duty is not only 
 wicked, he is a very great fool, for he abandons 
 happiness too. With innocence the simplest 
 life is happy. As soon as you begin to do evil
 
 HECTOR. 93 
 
 all the splendors in the world leave you miser- 
 able. The ways of Providence are inscrutable. 
 We do not understand them all, but there is no 
 need that we should ; for nobody that I know of 
 has ever asked us to do the work of Providence. 
 A few ignorant people who imagine themselves 
 capable of understanding everything," Grand'- 
 m6re raised her voice with some asperity, "will 
 tell you that they could arrange the world much 
 better ; but that only proves that they have as 
 little faith as they have good sense. I tell you 
 that we see here below a very little piece at a 
 time of the great scheme, and that one must be 
 mad to attempt to judge that of which we hardly 
 know the ABC. During my long life I have 
 seen that the dishonest are unhappy, while the 
 honest and industrious, and those who know 
 that they must not meddle with what they do 
 not understand, are happy. And that seems to 
 me enough for reasonable people." 
 
 Madelon knew as well as we did that the last 
 part of Grand'mere's speech was intended for 
 her, and we heard her muttering in the kitchen 
 as she carried the lamp away to light, but she 
 did not dare for the moment to make any more 
 remarks. 
 
 Grand'mere's supper was very simple: in
 
 94 HECTOE. 
 
 winter a dish of vegetables with a piece of 
 bread comprised her whole bill of fare, and in 
 summer a salad, a pear, or a bunch of grapes 
 replaced the hot dish of vegetables. For me 
 there was always a boiled egg, and how can 1 
 describe the lively pleasure I felt when this 
 evening after the lamp had been put in the 
 middle of the round table, and the dish of 
 haricots set as usual before Grand'mere, Made- 
 Ion brought in two boiled eggs upon a plate 
 instead of the one which I had been accustomed 
 to for years. It seems a little thing to take 
 pleasure from, but of all the happy sensations 
 of that day none stays with me more vividly 
 than the joy I felt when Madelon brought in 
 our two eggs and I realized afresh that I had a 
 companion now in supper and in everything. 
 
 " Monsieur the scoundrel sups no doubt on 
 partridges," Madelon remarked audibly to Jean 
 as she served the remainder of the haricots for 
 their supper in the kitchen ; and I thought in 
 my heart that Grand'mere was right ; no matter 
 what he had, I felt sure he was not as happy as 
 I while I ate my egg slowly, looking at Hector. 
 
 " Yes," Grand'mere said when supper was 
 finished and Madelon had cleared the table, 
 " Esquebesse is right ; it is with idleness that
 
 HECTOR. 95 
 
 crime begins ; therefore Zelie, since you have 
 amused yourself all day, you will fetch your 
 thimble now, and help me to make blue pina- 
 fores for Hector. His fine clothes will soon be 
 spoilt in running over the country with you ; 
 also, such a dress is not suitable. And you," 
 she said turning to Hector, "you must be useful 
 too. If you know how to read, you shall read 
 me my newspaper while I work." 
 
 I had been surprised to see Grand'mere pro- 
 duce her work-basket after supper, for as long as 
 I could remember it had been her custom to 
 devote the evening hour to her newspaper. 
 The only sounds ever to be heard in the dining- 
 room during that hour were the ticking of the 
 great clock in the corner, and the occasional 
 rustle of the newspaper; varied in winter by the 
 tapping of the evergreens upon the window- 
 pane, and in summer by the evening songs of 
 the birds outside in the orchard ; and I had 
 been accustomed whenever I wanted conversa- 
 tion to carry my spinning into the kitchen, and 
 sit there by the hearth, or on the doorstep, 
 according to season, chatting with Madelon 
 while she went about her work. It had never 
 occurred to me that Grand'mere could give that 
 hour up, and to see her change the habi> of so
 
 96 HECTOR. 
 
 many years in order to work for Hector made 
 me realize how kind and good she was. I was 
 therefore doubly glad that she told Hector to 
 read to her glad for Grand'mere's sake that she 
 should not altogether miss the newspaper she 
 enjoyed, and glad and proud that she should 
 hear how beautiful Hector could read. 
 
 I had a little chair of my own, upon which I 
 always sat ; but there was no little chair for 
 Hector ; so he got into Bonpapa's rush-bottomed 
 armchair, which had stood empty for years 
 beside the hearth. It was too high for his feet 
 to touch the ground, and sitting there opposite 
 to Grand'mere with his legs crossed and one 
 heel resting for support on the rung of the chair, 
 he gravely read us out the news of the day. 
 
 I have the blue pinafores still which Grand'- 
 mere and I made that spring for Hector. They 
 are shabby and faded now ; but I never see 
 them lying in a corner of the cupboard where I 
 keep my linen without thinking of those quiet 
 evenings, with the fire of vine branches crack- 
 ling on the hearth and Hector's voice musical in 
 the silence, while we plied our needles through 
 the dark-blue stuff. 
 
 I understood very little that first evening of 
 what Hector read. It was chiefly about the
 
 HECTOR. 97 
 
 army and the length of time that men should 
 serve. But he seemed soon to become inter- 
 ested, and he began to ask Grand'mere questions, 
 which she answered as gravely as if he had been 
 a man of her own age. She told him about our 
 conscription for the army, which they do not 
 have in England. He hardly would believe at 
 first that all our young men had to go, when 
 they were twenty-one, and draw lots to be 
 soldiers or to stay at home. Grand'mere told 
 him how few escape by drawing good lots ; and 
 she described to him the scene in the market- 
 place the day Georges of St. Loubouet went to 
 draw. The groups dressed in their Sunday 
 clothes, standing about talking to keep up their 
 spirits before their boys went in to draw ; the 
 anxious mothers and fathers standing in couples 
 by the door of the mairie while their sons' fate 
 was being decided within ; the eager looks cast 
 at the lot stuck in each lad's hat as he came 
 out ; the cries of joy when it was good, the 
 starting tears, the silent hand-shake, the de- 
 spairing pallor, when it was bad. " Ah ! " she 
 said, " it would have needed a heart of stone to 
 see old Jeanti standing there waiting "when 
 Georges' turn came, and not to have been 
 touched by it. His wife was not dead then, but 
 
 7
 
 98 HL'VTOR. 
 
 ill in bed at home, and he stood alone close by 
 the door of the mairie. When I saw him he 
 was leaning on his stick holding his cap in his 
 hand, and the wind was blowing his white hair. 
 
 " ' I am saying a little prayer,' he said to me, 
 ' while the lad draws. For if this turns badly, I 
 doubt much it will kill the wife.' 
 
 " I joined him and made also my prayer that 
 Georges might succeed. But it was no use. 
 After a few minutes the boy came out, and I 
 could see the fatal lot even before he reached 
 the door. 
 
 " Jeanti recognized his son as soon as I did, 
 but in his trembling eagerness he did not 
 perceive the lot. 
 
 " ' How has it gone, Georges ? I don't see 
 clearly.' 
 
 " Georges himself was as white as a ghost. 
 'No luck, father; I must go.' And the old 
 man put his cap upon his head and said only 
 1 God's will be done.' 
 
 " He was not mistaken, it killed the boy's 
 mother ; Georges hadn't been gone three weeks 
 when she was in her grave. Ah ! that con- 
 scription, it is the scourge of the country. It 
 takes all our best young men." 
 
 "It's not just," Hector said. "In England
 
 HECTOR. 99 
 
 no one could take them and send them against 
 their will to fight." 
 
 " Oh, for that, yes," said Grand'mere. " So 
 long as the country wants them, it is just that 
 they go. But it is war which is sad, and the 
 passions of men which make war necessary. If 
 Germany is to burst in upon us again, we must 
 be ready to thrust her back, and who so fit to 
 defend us as our sons. There is no help for it, 
 we must give them ; but it is hard for the 
 fathers and mothers." 
 
 Then she began to describe to Hector the 
 hardships of a soldier's daily life, the fatiguing 
 sentry work, the evil-smelling barracks, the 
 scanty food, the want of money, the separation 
 from all they loved ; till he said in his thoughtful 
 way 
 
 " It seems to me that to be a good French- 
 man you must be a hero." 
 
 "Yes," said Grand'mere, "and as all the 
 world has not heroic blood, it happens that we 
 see sometimes very bad Frenchmen like your 
 tramp of to-day." 
 
 Hector finished the newspaper, and then at 
 about half-past eight Grand'mere sent us to bed. 
 I only lay awake long enough to hear her lock- 
 ing the doors downstairs, and the dogs baying
 
 loo HECTOR. 
 
 in the yard as Madelon let them loose for the 
 night. Then with the happy feeling that we 
 were well protected against foreign enemies and 
 tramps and miseries of all kinds, I fell asleep to 
 dream of Hector and birds'-nests and the bright 
 spring woods.
 
 HECTOR. 101 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 T TECTOR'S first thought in the morning was 
 of birds again. He was out in the woods 
 before sunrise to hear them wake. I could not 
 go with him, for Grand'mere told me to watch 
 the milk while it boiled ; but when breakfast 
 was ready, I heard the welcome sound of his 
 peach whistle in the lane, and looking out I saw 
 him sauntering along with Esquebesse. They 
 stopped under the elder-trees, and while Esque- 
 besse took the peach-stone in his own hands to 
 examine, Hector pulled the " Aviceptologie " 
 from his pocket and pointed out a passage. 
 One of the dogs, hoping perhaps for something 
 better than books, poked his nose into the 
 gaping pocket, but neither Hector nor the 
 keeper paid any attention to him. 
 
 Esquebesse took the volume and read what 
 Hector had pointed out, while Hector gazed up 
 anxiously in his face. Then the volume was 
 returned. Esquebesse nodded in confirmation
 
 102 HECTOR. 
 
 of what he had read, and stretched his hand in 
 the direction of Cassagne. They were talking, 
 Hector still with eager upturned face, not heed- 
 ing in the least where he went, when they 
 reached the gate and Grand'mere came into 
 the porch. 
 
 " Good morning, M. Esquebesse. I see with 
 pleasure that the little lad chooses his friends 
 well. But if he is as hungry as he was yester- 
 day he would do well not to accompany you just 
 now, for his breakfast waits in there ; and then 
 later the Sister will come for the schooling. 
 Duty must pass before everything." 
 
 " Very certainly, madame. I am not taking 
 him away, I am bringing him back. I also have 
 my duties to attend to for the 'moment. But I 
 shall have occasion soon to visit the woods out 
 beyond Cassagne, and if you permit it I will 
 take him with me when I go. It seems he has 
 an ambition to become a bird-catcher." 
 
 The woods beyond Cassagne ! It meant the 
 whole afternoon away from me unless M. Esque- 
 besse would take me too. I dared not ask, but 
 I suppose my face betrayed my thought, for at 
 that moment his eyes lighted upon me, and he 
 added good-naturedly, "And the little one shall 
 come too if she likes."
 
 HECTOR. 103 
 
 " With you, M. Esquebesse, they are in good 
 hands ; you will take them where you like. 
 Once their duties are attended to they are free. 
 But you must not put yourself out for them." 
 
 " No danger, madame, no danger ; you know 
 that I like children. Come then after dinner," 
 he added to Hector, " to my own house, and we 
 will see what we can do. Z61ie knows the way. 
 Good-morning, Madame Loustanoff." 
 
 He whistled to his dogs and passed on down 
 the lane, while we went into breakfast, in the 
 kitchen, full of delight. Our delight was changed 
 to sorrow and humiliation when Soeur Am^lie 
 came; for then, and only then, did we remember 
 the sum and the lessons which were Jto have 
 been done for her. 
 
 She was, of course, very angry ; most de- 
 servedly so with me, for the ways of the house 
 were not new to me, and I had no excuse for 
 having forgotten. I felt exceedingly penitent, 
 and would have tried hard to do a double number 
 of sums that morning to atone for my fault ; but 
 Soeur Amelie had so much to say about our 
 naughty behaviour, that there was no time to 
 prove our sorrow by our acts. Hector did not 
 even seem to feel sorry. He sat perfectly 
 silent under the reproaches which were addressed
 
 104 HECTOR. 
 
 to him, flushing a little at first when Soeur 
 Am61ie spoke of the bad end. to which the idle 
 and disobedient were sure to come; but after- 
 wards, while she expatiated upon the theme,.! 
 could see that his thoughts were far away. 
 
 " Those who do not work should not eat. Do 
 you suppose that a good dinner would be put 
 upon this table at twelve o'clock to-day if others 
 had not worked ? and can you reconcile it to 
 your conscience ? " the Sister was saying, when 
 Hector started from his chair, with a joyous 
 light in his eyes, and cried out 
 
 " Why, Zelie, if you were right about them, 
 they might be hatched to-day. I quite forgot to 
 look this morning." 
 
 He encountered as he started up Soeur Amelie's 
 astonished gaze, and suddenly remembered where 
 he was. In an instant he had banished the joy 
 from his eyes, and with what must, I am sure, 
 have been a tremendous effort of politeness, he 
 put on an expression so miserably guilty that as 
 he sat down again I found it impossible to help 
 laughing. 
 
 I knew how wrong it was of me, I felt horribly 
 wicked ; but I could not help it, the laughter 
 was out before I had had time to think. 
 
 " Oh ! ma Soeur, I beg your pardon," I ex-
 
 HECTOR. 105 
 
 claimed ; " I know I should not have laughed 
 but Hector's face was so funny." 
 
 My attempt at explanation was unfortunate ; 
 Soeur Amelie would hear no more. 
 
 "Funny!" she exclaimed; "you find his 
 naughtiness funny. Then it is time for your 
 grandmother to let you hear what she thinks of 
 such drollery. Madame Loustanoff," she called 
 through 'the open door into the kitchen, "will 
 you have the kindness to come and tell these 
 children what you think of their behaviour ? It 
 seems that what I say is only laughable." 
 
 Madelon called back from the sink, where she 
 was scouring saucepans, that Madame Loustanoff 
 was in the farm-yard ; and I heard her shout 
 through the window, in fiatois, to Jean, that he 
 was to find Madame Loustanoff and tell her that 
 the Sister wanted her to come and make the 
 children listen to reason. 
 
 I sat horror-stricken. Such a thing had never 
 happened to me in my life before, as to have 
 a formal complaint of my behaviour carried to 
 Grand'mere ; and the idea of bringing her in 
 from her occupation on the farm only for the 
 purpose of speaking to us seemed to me so 
 monstrous, that I gazed at Hector in blank 
 dismay, unable even to find words for a suppli- 
 cation.
 
 io6 BECTOR. 
 
 Hector also seemed to feel this. 
 
 " It was not at you," he tried to explain, "that 
 Zelie .was laughing." 
 
 But Sosur Amelie had taken the strong meas- 
 ure and was prepared to support it now with 
 dignity. 
 
 " Silence, sir," she said, " you will exculpate 
 yourself to Madame Loustanoff." 
 
 The blood rushed into his cheeks ; but he 
 was silent, and then we all sat and waited for 
 Grand'mre. 
 
 She came at last in her short grey dress and 
 sabots, with her large hat tied over her cap, and 
 the bunch of big keys in her hand. I could see 
 by the firm set of her mouth and the brightness 
 of her little dark eyes that she was not inclined 
 to be trifled with. 
 
 Soeur Ame'lie, rather whiter than usual for 
 anger, poured out the story of our misbehaviour. 
 We had begun, she said, with carelessness and 
 inattention yesterday, we had gone on with 
 idleness, and when she blamed us for leaving 
 our tasks undone, we had laughed at her re- 
 monstrances. 
 
 We sat with eyes fixed on Grand'mere while 
 the Sister was speaking. Even to our own ears 
 our conduct, thus related, sounded indeed inex-
 
 HECTOR. 107 
 
 cusable, and I knew Grand'mere well enough 
 to know that she would not think lightly of 
 misbehaviour. 
 
 " Hein ! They laughed at you did they?" she 
 said, "that was pretty, very pretty." 
 
 " It was Zelie alone who laughed," explained 
 the Sister. 
 
 " Oh, it was Ze"lie alone who permitted herself 
 that little diversion ? And from whence do you 
 take, mademoiselle, these airs of the town ? If 
 it is from our little gentleman here, the sooner 
 you are humiliated before him the better. Pass 
 me that distaff." 
 
 My empty distaff stood in the corner of the 
 dining-room leaning up against the wall. I 
 fetched it as Grand'mere desired. 
 
 " Stretch out your hand," she said. 
 
 I stretched it out timidly in horrible fear of 
 what was coming, and the next instant a smart 
 blow upon the palm of my hand made my arm 
 tingle to the shoulder. It was not the pain 
 alone which made my cheeks burn, and the tears 
 start suddenly from my eyes ; but the feeling of 
 shame and humiliation which overcame me was 
 hardly felt before Hector caused me to forget it ; 
 for no sooner was my hand-withdrawn than he 
 pulled his from his pocket and thrust it forward,
 
 io8 HECTOR. 
 
 saying "It was as much my fault as hers. I 
 made her laugh." 
 
 Grand'mere looked at him sharply for an 
 instant. * 
 
 " If your fault was the same you deserve the 
 same punishment," she said ; and she brought 
 the distaff down upon his hand with a blow 
 every bit as hard as the one she had given me. 
 Hector did not seem to like it any better than I 
 did, and we both looked ruefully at our reddened 
 palms, while Grand'mere proceeded 
 
 " And they have been idle ? Well, there are 
 not two words to say on the subject. You 
 understand that at Salaret the idle do not eat 
 white bread and smoked ham. It is a question 
 of finishing before twelve all the lessons Sosur 
 Ame"lie sets you, or Madelon lays hut one place 
 on our dinner-table." 
 
 With that she turned round and went away, 
 and Hector and I sat down very quietly to our 
 lessons. I found my slate pencil hard to hold 
 in my hot and sore right hand, and looking 
 across the table I saw that Hector was in 
 equal difficulty. He went on steadily, how- 
 ever, so I determined to go on steadily too, and 
 for a time no sound was heard but the squeak of 
 our pencils on the slates. Then Soeur Amelie
 
 HECTOR. 109 
 
 went into the kitchen, and returning almost 
 immediately with .some vinegar in a cup, she tore 
 her own handkerchief in half, and after soaking 
 the two strips in vinegar she bound our hands 
 for us, so deftly and comfortably, that in a few 
 minutes the pain was almost gone. 
 
 She did not say a word to us, and except for 
 the " thank you " we each uttered in return for 
 the binding of our hands, no one spoke till the 
 lessons were all learned and the hour of repeti- 
 tion came. 
 
 " Well ! " said Grand'mere, as she passed 
 through the dining-room just before Soeur Ame- 
 lie went. " Is the work done ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, madame. Everything is finished. 
 They have been very good, and I am sure they 
 regret now that they were naughty." 
 
 " So much the better," Grand'mere said. And 
 without waiting for any assurance from us to 
 that effect, she went on into the kitchen where 
 we heard her saying to Madelon : 
 
 " You can lay the places as usual. Every 
 one has gained his dinner." 
 
 " I had a great deal rather not have any din- 
 ner." Hector said, in a low voice to me, as 
 having put our books away we went and stood 
 aimlessly in the porch, where a row of pigeons 
 sat cooing on the lintel
 
 Iio HECTOR. 
 
 " Why not ? " I asked. 
 
 " Because it seems as if I had worked to get 
 dinner, and I didn't care one scrap for that." 
 
 " But there's no shame in working for your 
 dinner, is there ? " 
 
 " There's no shame for a laborer. Gentlemen 
 are different." 
 
 " And what difference do you find, my little 
 gentleman?" asked Grand'm^re's voice sarcas- 
 tic behind us. 
 
 Hector flushed deeply at being overheard, and 
 instead of answering looked away from Grand'- 
 mere out over the vineyards. 
 
 " Voyons, explain yourself ; show us the rea- 
 ron why the gentleman should not work for his 
 dinner." 
 
 I waited rather anxiously for Hector's answer, 
 for Grand'mere had always taught me that it 
 was silly pride to suppose there was any great 
 difference between gentlemen and good laborers, 
 and I was disappointed that Hector should have 
 one petty thought. He seemed to have some 
 little difficulty in explaining himself. He con- 
 tinued to gaze for a moment over the fields, and 
 then he said, with an evident effort, but quite 
 clearly and steadily 
 
 "Gentlemen ought to work for something
 
 HECTOR. Ill 
 
 better than dinner. There is no shame for a 
 poor man, because if he didn't gain food he'd 
 have to die. Gentlemen have everything they 
 need, and they ought not to work for themselves 
 at all. They ought to work for other people. 
 It doesn't matter a bit to be hungry once in a 
 way. I have tried going without my dinner and 
 tea just to see." 
 
 " So," said Grand'mere, and there was no 
 sarcasm in her voice now, "your idea of the 
 difference between a gentleman and a plebeian 
 is that the gentleman -works for others, and the 
 plebeian for himself. Well, keep that idea, it 
 will do you no harm if you act up to it. But," 
 and the sharp look came into her eyes again, 
 " just tell me this. If you didn't do your lessons 
 for the sake of dinner, how does it happen that 
 they have been all done since you understood' 
 that without lessons there was no dinner ? " 
 
 " It was not because of dinner. It was 
 because I hate for her," and he nodded his head 
 in the direction of Sceur Ame"lie's departure, 
 "to tell you that I am idle. I am not idle." 
 There was a passionate note of disclaimer in his 
 voice which seemed to please Grand'mere, for 
 she smiled and nodded her head as she replied 
 
 " We shall see that."
 
 H2 HECTOR. 
 
 Then she left us to go and see after the labor- 
 ers, and Hector and I> being after all exceedingly 
 hungry, were attracted by the good smell of cab- 
 bage-soup to the kitchen, where, forgetting our 
 troubles, we peeped into the saucepans and 
 helped and hindered Madelon, till the welcome 
 hour of noon brought Grand'mere in again, and 
 dinner. 
 
 An hour later, with the " Aviceptologie " 
 safely stowed in Hector's pocket and my knit- 
 ting in my hand, we started to fulfil our appoint- 
 ment with Esquebesse. -We had not far to go 
 to reach his cottage, only about a kilometre up 
 and down through the woods, and then along a 
 bit of an old by-road bordered, as our lane was, 
 with flowers. I remember well how it looked 
 that day with the row of dark-green box-bushes, 
 which separated it on one side from the wood, 
 glittering in the sunlight behind the gorse and 
 white thorn, and luxuriant patches of swift- 
 growing periwinkle covering the hedgerow grass 
 and opening their blue blossoms boldly in the 
 dust of the road. The wild strawberries were 
 still in flower all along the ditch, and violets and 
 cuckoo and bright yellow celandines seemed to 
 form a little court around the more stately impe- 
 rial crowns. Hector had never seen so many
 
 HECTOR. 113 
 
 wild flowers all together. He said it reminded 
 him of some words that he had read "The 
 wilderness and the solitary plain shall be glad 
 for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blos- 
 som as the rose." I asked him who wrote those 
 words, and he told me one of the Prophets, he 
 didn't remember which. Since then I have 
 always liked to picture the Prophets walking in 
 woods like ours, and thinking of God. 
 
 We did not hurry, but zigzagged from side to 
 side of the road, peeping into the box-bushes 
 for birds'-nests, looking under the strawberry- 
 leaves to see if the fruit were forming poking, 
 peering, smelling, admiring everywhere. We 
 neither of us had hands to spare, for Hector 
 wanted every minute to use his, and I from time 
 to time remembered my knitting ; so whatever 
 flowers Hector picked he stuck, stalk downward, 
 into my big pinafore pocket ; and as I took care 
 in my scrambling, not to hurt them, he told me 
 before we reached the cottage that I made a 
 most capital little donkey. I was so pleased 
 that I think at the moment I would have asked 
 nothing better of life than to be his little donkey 
 for ever. 
 
 Esquebesse's cottage stood at the end of this 
 bit of road, back under the shade of the wood.
 
 114 JJECTOP. 
 
 He and his goat and his two dogs lived there 
 alone, but they had a very comfortable little 
 home. When people asked Esquebesse why he 
 did not marry, he always said that the situation 
 of his house was too lonely he could not ask any 
 woman to remain there by herself, while he 
 went on his distant rounds ; but however that 
 might be, his establishment seemed quite com- 
 plete without a wife. On either side of the 
 cottage he cultivated a bit of garden ground, 
 and his vegetables were famous in the neighbor- 
 hood. The vine which covered the front of his 
 house, produced grapes which Grand'mere her- 
 self was glad to buy when we had visitors at 
 Salaret. The three beehives which stood on a 
 board beneath his kitchen -window gave more 
 honey every year than he could eat ; his fowls 
 were the envy of surrounding farmers' wives. 
 And within the house everything was scrupu- 
 lously neat and clean. 
 
 "My poor mother left all in order," Esque- 
 besse used to say, and since then there has been 
 no one to make disorder. Twice a year his sis- 
 ter used to come for a week from Montfort to do 
 his wash, and to inspect his linen ; but that was 
 all the help he ever had. 
 
 To-day, as we came down the road, we could
 
 HECTOR. 115 
 
 see through the open doorway the interior of 
 the big low room, which served him for kitchen 
 and sitting-room. It looked dark and quiet to 
 eyes dazzled with the sunshine and flowers of 
 the open road. A small fire smouldered in the 
 wide chimney, and the smoke curled slowly up 
 on either side of the great chain and hook on 
 which no caldron was hanging. The caldron it- 
 self stood to one side on the hearth, with the 
 brown water pitcher near it. Just opposite the 
 door was the old carved cupboard, where family 
 linen had been stored for generations, and on a 
 low oak table against the wall some cabbages 
 were piled, with half a pumpkin and two or three 
 onions. Nets and other utensils for bird-catch- 
 ing hung from the smoke -blackened rafters 
 above, interspersed with rabbit-skins and bunches 
 of garlic. We did not see any one in the room, 
 but as the dogs were lying out in the sun before 
 the cottage door, we knew that Esquebesse was 
 not far off, and we advanced, intending to enter 
 and wait. The dogs did not approve of this 
 intention, and no sooner did we manifest it than 
 they started up and came towards us, barking 
 with such a distinctly inhospitable accent, that 
 if .1 had not been holding Hector's hand I should 
 certainly have turned round and run away.
 
 li6 HECTOR. 
 
 They were big hunting dogs, known to be fierce ; 
 and even Hector, I think, was a little frightened 
 as one of them suddenly rushed at us, for he put 
 himself in front of me while he held my hand 
 tight and said, " Stand quite still." 
 
 At that moment, however, a voice from within 
 called 
 
 " Here, Bruno ; lie down, Loup Garou ; " and 
 as Bruno paused in his advance, Dr. Charles of 
 Portalouve appeared upon the threshold of the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " These dogs are too zealous in the discharge 
 of their duty," he said as he advanced to meet 
 us. " Esquebesse went up to M. le Comte half 
 an hour ago and left them to guard the house 
 and me ; but he told me he was expecting you, 
 and during all the time that they have lived 
 together the dogs should have become better 
 acquainted with their master's hospitable na- 
 ture." 
 
 He took my hand as he spoke and led me past 
 the danger which had frightened me, into the 
 shelter of the house. Hector, however, instead 
 of following us remained on the threshold, 
 standing quietly between the dogs. 
 
 Dr. Charles had only lately come back then 
 from Bordeaux, to be the assistant of our old
 
 HECTOR. 117 
 
 doctor, Du Verger, at Cassagne. His mother, 
 Madame de la Meillierie, is a cousin of Grand'- 
 mere's, but as she has always lived at Portalouve, 
 which is seventeen kilometres off, I scarcely 
 remembered at that time to have ever seen her. 
 Grand'mere and I did not often move as far as 
 seventeen kilometres. I knew Dr. Charles, for 
 I had seen him more than once at Salaret, and 
 sometimes I had met him in the lanes or woods, 
 about the farm, with his trousers rolled up and 
 the mud thick upon his boots hunting in out-of- 
 the-way places for specimens of stones and 
 flowers. I had heard the country people speak 
 too of his knowledge, and his goodness to his 
 mother, so I did not feel shy at all when I found 
 myself in the kitchen alone with him. It was 
 the first time I had ever seen him without his 
 spectacles, and as I looked up to thank him for 
 coming out, I saw how kind and gentle his eyes 
 were. 
 
 The remains of an omelette and a loaf and a 
 bottle of wine on the table, with Dr. Charles' 
 hat and specimen case lying beside them, showed 
 that he had been enjoying the hospitality of 
 Esquebesse ; and when he had answered my 
 few words of thanks and stuck my bunch of 
 flowers into a pitcher of water that stood by the 
 cabbages, he began to clear the table.
 
 n8 HECTOR. 
 
 " When hunger assails me in the woods and I 
 find myself very far from dinner," he said, " I 
 always come and beg an omelette from Esque- 
 besse; but it is not just that I should leave dis- 
 order in his kitchen." 
 
 Seeing what he wanted to do, I took a bowl 
 from the dresser, and while he went to put the 
 remains of the loaf into the bread-pan, I washed 
 his plate and glass and fork. 
 
 " Tiens, my child, you are helping me ? " he 
 said when he came back. 
 
 " You helped me, monsieur, just now." 
 
 He smiled, and stood watching me while I 
 polished the glass with a dry cloth as Grand'- 
 mere had taught me to do. 
 
 " The fact is," he said, " Esquebesse gains in 
 the exchange ; if I had washed his glass it is 
 probable that he would have had to wash it 
 again before he used it." 
 
 Then he sat down and opened his specimen 
 case, leaving the rest of the table for me to 
 clear.
 
 HECTOR. 119 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 T HAD cleared the table, and Hector, having 
 finished his inspection of the dogs, had 
 come in and was standing with me watching 
 Dr. Charles' proceedings at a respectful distance, 
 when Esquebesse arrived. 
 
 " Pouf," he said as he took off his hat and 
 wiped his face, "I have kept you waiting; but I 
 have arranged all our little affairs satisfactorily. 
 I passed round by Salaret, and Madame Loustan- 
 off trusts the children to us. Now we have 
 nothing else to do but to start." 
 
 " Where are we going ? " asked Hector. 
 
 " Where are we going ? Dr. Charles has told 
 you nothing? We are going the whole way to 
 Portalouve. Dr. Charles goes to spend Sunday 
 with his mother, and he will drive us there in 
 his little carriage. Baptiste, the miller, went 
 yesterday evening to Montfort, and he will give 
 us a lift back." 
 
 We children cared little how we were to get
 
 120 IIECTOR. 
 
 there or how we were to come back. That we 
 were going to Portalouve was enough for us. 
 Had Esquebesse suddenly announced that he 
 meant to take us to Paris, I could hardly have 
 felt more excited. Portalouve, thirteen kilo- 
 metres on the other side of Cassagne, fully 
 halfway to Montfort where Georges and the 
 soldiers were, seemed indeed to me a new 
 country. How Esquebesse had ever persuaded 
 Grand'mere to let us go I could not imagine, 
 and I dared not ask for fear any flaw might 
 appear in the permission and hinder our de- 
 parture even now. 
 
 Hector took our good luck much more coolly 
 than I ; he seemed pleased when Esquebesse 
 first announced it, but his interest had been 
 awakened by Dr. Charles' specimens ; and even 
 while Esquebesse was bringing the old carriage 
 round from the back yard where the horse had 
 been tied, and making such preparations as he 
 thought necessary before quitting the house, 
 Hector was listening intently to a description 
 Dr. Charles was giving him of the inward and 
 outward growth of vegetable stems. Esquebesse 
 had no respect, apparently, for his love of 
 knowledge. As soon as he was ready to lock 
 up the house he told him to run out and shut up
 
 HECTOR. 121 
 
 the shutters, which Hector did with the greatest 
 goodwill. Esquebesse fastened them on the 
 inside, then we all went out ; I saw the key 
 turned at last in the door, and in another minute 
 we had fairly started. 
 
 Dr. Charles' carriage was a funny old vehicle 
 with a hood, intended to hold only two people ; 
 but Dr. Charles and Esquebesse made room for 
 me between them, and Hector sat very comfort- 
 ably on the footboard at our feet. The old 
 yellow nag which Dr. Du Verger had bought 
 from Grand'mere fifteen or sixteen years before, 
 was so well accustomed to the road that it went 
 almost of its own accord, and there was nothing' 
 to interfere with the delight I had in seeing our 
 beautiful country and in showing it to Hector. 
 As far as Cassagne I knew it myself, after that 
 I had to leave all his questions to be answered 
 by Dr. Charles and Esquebesse ; but I was well 
 content to listen, for he asked questions that I 
 should never have thought of asking, and in 
 answering them Dr. Charles and Esquebesse 
 talked together, and told us so much that was 
 interesting, that the world began to seem to me 
 much bigger than it had ever seemed before. A 
 long way past Cassagne we passed a vineyard 
 where a number of men were digging. Esque-
 
 122 SECTOR. 
 
 besse told us it belonged to M. le Comte, and he 
 stopped the carriage that we might see what 
 they were doing. An overseer was directing 
 them, and after speaking a few words to Dr. 
 Charles, he took my hand and led me to a part 
 of the vineyard where the ground was thrown 
 up round a large square ditch. We mounted on 
 the sides of the ditch, and looking down we saw 
 to my surprise, at about three or four feet below 
 the surface of the vineyard, what looked to me 
 like a beautiful painted pavement. The design 
 was of baskets of fruit and flowers, with game 
 and fish lying round ; the workmen had just 
 washed it, and the wet colors glowed in the sun 
 almost like precious stones. 
 
 "What is it?" I asked. "Why does M. le 
 Comte have his vineyard paved ? " 
 
 The overseer smiled, and Dr. Charles ex- 
 plained that this pavement which I saw was 
 called a mosaic, and that it was not M. le Comte 
 who had put it in the vineyard, but probably 
 some Roman noble more than a thousand years 
 before. M. le Comte had only found it, and was 
 having it transported to the floor of his own 
 dining-room. 
 
 " The Romans have lived here then ? " said 
 Hector, raising his head and looking round as
 
 UECTOE." 123 
 
 though he expected still to see their palaces on 
 the slopes of the hills. 
 
 "There is little doubt," said the overseer 
 gravely, " that they have spat on this very 
 pavement" 
 
 He was mocking at the sudden light which 
 had sprung into Hector's face, but Esquebesse 
 answered almost at the same time with a kindly 
 smite 
 
 " Therefore, if we must be heroes in order to 
 be good Frenchmen, Frenchmen should not 
 forget that they have the blood of heroes in 
 their veins. Hein ! " 
 
 I wondered how Esquebesse knew that Hec- 
 tor had said men should be heroes to be good 
 Frenchmen, but Hector did not seem to notice 
 that. 
 
 " If those mountains could speak," he said, 
 pointing to the snow-line of the Pyrenees, which 
 seemed in the clear atmosphere of the spring 
 afternoon to lie quite close to us, " how awfully 
 interesting it would be to ask them questions. 
 I do so long often to ask questions of all the old 
 things, who were there before we were born." 
 
 " It is a question of learning their language," 
 said Dr. Charles thoughtfully. And as they 
 stood so looking at the mountains, I heard one 
 of the workmen say to another
 
 124 ' HECTOR. 
 
 " Who is the little chap ? " 
 
 " It's the English boy, from Loustanoff's." 
 
 An incredulous laugh was the only answer. 
 
 " What are you laughing at ? It is so." 
 
 " Not he. He's not English." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " He's too handsome." 
 
 Two or three of them drew together, and 
 looked at him critically as he stood on the 
 edge of the ditch talking to Esquebesse and 
 Dr. Charles. 
 
 " He is solidly built," said one ; " he will go 
 far." 
 
 And I, who had never thought before whether 
 he was handsome or ugly, felt my heart beat 
 faster with pride in him as I looked. Once in 
 the carriage again, Dr. Charles began to tell us 
 about the old Romans, and the drive through 
 the flowering country from the mosaics to Porta- 
 louve seemed to pass almost like a dream. But 
 it was one of those dreams of which one never 
 loses the recollection. I see still, as though it 
 had been but yesterday, the purple of the 
 bursting woods which clothed the hills, the 
 orchards everywhere in blossom, the yellow 
 mustard-fields, the glaring crimson sainfoin, the 
 bright tender green of the flax-fields, the rich
 
 HECTOR. 125 
 
 brown earth where the lately planted maize was 
 germinating. Over all, the blue sky, with clouds 
 driving high up before the wind, and in the 
 distance the sparkling peaks of the Pyrenees 
 girdling us in. It was Saturday, so we were not 
 alone upon the road. A bright stream of buyers 
 and sellers flocked to and from the Saturday 
 markets; vehicles of all sorts passed us fre- 
 quently, and Dr. Charles and Esquebesse, who 
 knew most of the people for many miles round, 
 told us to whom they belonged and where the/ 
 were going, and exchanged many a greeting with 
 the passers-by. They say it is very grand to 
 drive in the Bois de Boulogne, and that the 
 carriages there are finer than I have any idea of. 
 All the same, I do not believe that any lady in 
 Paris ever had a happier drive in the Bois than 
 I had that day between Salaret and Portalouve. 
 Esquebesse stopped at an inn where the road 
 branched off to Montfort, and told them to bid 
 the miller wait for us when he came back from 
 Montfort in the evening ; and after that, another 
 quarter of an hour of driving brought us to 
 Dr. Charles' home. 
 
 I was rather cramped with sitting so long, 
 and I remember that when the carriage stopped 
 at the yard gate Dr. Charles lifted me out and
 
 126 HECTOR. 
 
 carried me himself across the slush of the farm- 
 yard to the kitchen-door, while Hector followed 
 between the very muzzles of two big St. Ber- 
 nards. The barking of the dogs brought out 
 Madame de la Meillerie, and she was so de- 
 lighted to see her son that she kissed me and 
 Hector in the warmth of her heart almost as 
 affectionately as she kissed Dr. Charles. I see 
 her still as she stood in the doorway in her 
 ample black dress and lilac sun-bonnet, her 
 broad kind face beaming with pleasure. 
 
 Had she something nice to give the children 
 for goAter? Of course she had. Some little 
 cakes were baking at this minute in the oven 
 for to-morrow's dessert, and they should taste 
 the Spanish melon jam of which she had spoken 
 last New Year to Madame Loustanoff. As for 
 Esquebesse, it was not now that she had to tell 
 him he was always welcome at Portalouve ; a 
 little glass of her old Malaga would do him no 
 harm, she fancied, after his long drive. And 
 then there was a rattling of keys and a bustling 
 about, and hasty direction to Jeanne and Mar- 
 guerite ; and while we stood and stretched 
 ourselves before the kitchen fire the dining-room 
 table was set out with cakes and jam and milk 
 and a p^te" de foie gras, and a dusty bottle of old 
 Malaga for Esquebesse.
 
 HECTOR. 127 
 
 " Aliens, Chariot, eat a bit yourself ; I'll be 
 bound your dinner was a light one to-day." 
 
 "You are making cruel reproaches to Esque- 
 besse, mother. It was he who furnished it." 
 
 " Nothing but an omelette, madame," said 
 Esquebesse. 
 
 " Ah, I know that everything is good in 
 Esquebesse's house, but an omelette all the 
 same soon leaves place for other things. Sit 
 down, sit down ; " and she cut into the pate with 
 hospitable vigor. 
 
 " I ask no better," said Dr. Charles, " your 
 pates, my mother, are to be refused by no rea- 
 sonable man." And in another moment we 
 were all seated round the table eating as though 
 we also had dined upon Dr. Charles' omelette. 
 Madame de la Meillerie waited upon us, and 
 took pleasure in piling up our plates ; but she 
 herself took nothing except a little, half-glass of 
 Malaga to please her son. 
 
 The farm at Portalouve was as large as Sal- 
 aret, and Madame de la Meillerie was very busy 
 that afternoon. So when after goiter Esque 
 besse went away to attend to the business which 
 had brought him to that part of the country, 
 Dr. Charles followed his mother into the yard to 
 give her the benefit of his advice in some bar-
 
 128 HECTOR. . 
 
 gains she had. to make that afternoon, and Hec- 
 tor and I were free to ramble where we pleased. 
 Our rambles took us at first no further than the 
 kitchen. The servant Jeanne, who was a girl 
 from our side of Cassagne, was only too glad of 
 a chance of hearing news from her village, and 
 while Hector amused himself with sauntering 
 about looking at everything, she made me pass 
 all our neighbors and their affairs in review. A 
 very respectable woman, who wore her hair 
 uncovered like a lady, was sitting at work in one 
 corner of the kitchen. She seemed to listen 
 with interest to what we were saying, and 
 presently, when Jeanne's questions became a 
 little slack, she asked in a pleasant, quiet 
 voice 
 
 " Do you know in your country, mademoiselle, 
 a girl called Irma Lagrace?" 
 
 The name at once attracted Hector's attention. 
 
 " Is that our Irma ? " he asked, coming up to 
 my side as he spoke. 
 
 " Yes," I said, answering both him and the 
 workwoman. " We know her very well, madame. 
 Do you wish for news of her ? " 
 
 " I do not know her myself ; but I have heard 
 her spoken of often. They say she is very 
 pretty."
 
 HECTOR. 129 
 
 " She is the prettiest person I know," Hectoi 
 said with a decision which astonished me. 
 
 " I see nothing so very remarkable in her," 
 said Jeanne with a toss of the head. " People 
 have got it into their heads that she is very 
 pretty, and the men all run after her, because 
 men are like sheep ; what one does the others 
 must do. But all that has no common-sense in 
 it. She is no better than the other girls of the 
 village. And then between nine of them, I ask 
 you what sort of a dot she is likely to have? " 
 
 " The dot counts for little if the suitor is rich. 
 They say she is pretty enough to be married for 
 her beauty." 
 
 " Bah ! it is only that old idiot of a miller who 
 says so, and what does he know about beauty ? 
 It is not in his family, at all events, that he 
 would have learnt to admire it." 
 
 " My cousin Georges has told me the same, 
 and he at all events has eyes." 
 
 " Are you Georges' cousin Marie, that he goes 
 to see at Montfort ? " asked Hector, his eyes 
 lighting with sudden interest. 
 
 "Yes," said the workwoman with a smile, "I 
 am Marie Monthez, cousin of young Georges of 
 St. Loubouet. You have heard him speak of 
 me ? "
 
 130 HECTOR. 
 
 I was dreadfully afraid for a moment that 
 Hector would say more than he ought, but I 
 might have spared my anxiety; he only replied 
 in an absent, dreamy voice 
 
 " Yes, I heard him say he went to see you 
 every Sunday." 
 
 "And since you think Irma so pretty, tell me 
 what she is like," Marie Monthez pursued. 
 " Georges does not know how to describe. Tell 
 me what she looked like the last time you saw 
 her." 
 
 The corners of Hector's mouth curled up into 
 laughter; the remembrance of the last time he 
 had seen Irma seemed to tickle his fancy, but 
 he said he did not know how to describe in 
 French. 
 
 "Allons! that is foolish," said Marie, "you 
 speak French like ourselves. Come now, tell 
 me what she is like. You, then, mademoiselle." 
 
 I described as well as I could Irma's bright 
 curly hair, her clear complexion, her white 
 teeth, her soft dark eyes. 
 
 "And then her lips," " said Hector; "she 
 really has lips, as they say in story-books, the 
 color of cherries, and nice little feet, with good 
 sensible shoes that she can walk in, and hands 
 burnt a pretty brown color in the sun. And
 
 HECTOR. 131 
 
 sometimes when she laughs, she puts her head 
 on one side just like a blackbird, doesn't she, 
 Zelie ? The last time we saw her," here his 
 mouth began to curl merrily again, " was yester- 
 day in the wood, near our house, and the sun 
 was shining so that little shadows of the tree- 
 branches fell all over her as she walked along 
 with " 
 
 " With whom ? " said a new voice suddenly 
 and angrily behind us ; and we turned round to 
 see no less a personage than M. Baptiste, the 
 miller himself, who had come in unobserved, 
 and had heard perhaps everything we had been 
 saying. 
 
 "Well. She was walking along with " he 
 
 repeated. 
 
 Hector who had reddened nervously at the 
 sudden interruption, recovered from the start 
 and answered quietly 
 
 " With her distaff. She was spinning, you 
 know." <* 
 
 The miller seemed to think he had been rather 
 foolish, for he laughed awkwardly, and glanced 
 at Marie Monthez as he said 
 
 " Good, good. So long as young girls only 
 walk with their distaffs, they give proof of their 
 good sense, do they not, Mam'selle Marie?"
 
 132 HECTOR. 
 
 "Ah! M. Baptiste, you know I have always 
 told you you are too severe upon young people." 
 They spoke to each other like old friends, which 
 rather astonished Hector and me, for it had 
 never occurred to us that the miller would also 
 know Georges' cousin. His next words showed 
 that he not only knew her, but knew her well. 
 
 Jeanne was at the other end of the kitchen, 
 helping Marguerite to lift a heavy caldron from 
 the fire, and as Hector and I stood looking out 
 of the window, I suppose the miller considered 
 himself as good as alone with Marie Monthez. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Marie," he said, sitting down 
 at the opposite side of her work-table, and wip- 
 ing his face slowly with a large pocket-handker- 
 chief, " I come from seeing your parents, and it 
 is because they told me you were here that I 
 have come here to-day." 
 
 " You know, M. Baptiste, that where I am you 
 are always welcome," Marie's quiet voice replied. 
 
 " For I have a question to ask you. I would 
 like to know if it is true what they say, that you 
 do not intend to marry ? " 
 
 I glanced over my shoulder. Marie had 
 dropped her work to listen to him. Now she 
 took it up and began to stitch swiftly as she 
 replied
 
 HECTOR. 135 
 
 " I have not said that." 
 
 "It would be a pity," he went on slowly, 
 "for from Salaret to Montfort there is not a 
 housekeeper to compare with you. Every one 
 knows how you have always behaved towards 
 your parents, and when one behaves well towards 
 one's parents that proves a good heart, which 
 will lead you to behave well in other circum- 
 stances of life." 
 
 " It is very simple ; for housekeeping, my 
 mother brought me up in the midst of order ; 
 and in what concerns my behavior, I have always 
 loved my parents. I have no merit in all that." 
 
 " But yes but yes, you have a rare merit. 
 At Montfort every one speaks of your goodness, 
 the wickedest tongue in the town finds nothing 
 .to say against you. And then you are rich; it 
 is a pity for such a wedding portion as yours to 
 lie idle." 
 
 " For that, yes, I am rich enough ; but I have 
 no desire to be married for my portion." 
 
 " Enfin, if there was somebody who liked you 
 for yourself, that you had known from your 
 childhood and who was not bad, you would not 
 say No." 
 
 The miller seemed very much in earnest. I 
 could not resist the temptation to look round
 
 134 HECTOR. 
 
 again. Marie had dropped her work, and was 
 looking at him with a bright color in her cheeks 
 which made her seem ever so much younger 
 than we had thought her at first. 
 
 " Why do you ask me this, M. Baptiste ? " she 
 said. 
 
 " Because- 1 would wish to know. Your par- 
 ents told me it was no use, that you would not 
 hear of marriage; and I said to them, let me 
 try : we have known each other since we were 
 children, perhaps I shall have some influence." 
 
 " If he suited me, I would say Yes." 
 
 " I may tell this to your parents ? " The 
 miller rose up joyously as he spoke, and held 
 out his hand to her. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and Marie's 
 voice, trembling a little, said 
 
 " What do you mean, M. Baptiste ? " 
 
 Then Madame de la Meillerie and Dr. Charles 
 came in fiom the yard, and while they were 
 welcoming Baptiste we turned round to see 
 Marie taking up her work again, with a face still 
 aglow and her eyes bright almost like Irma's. 
 
 After that, Hector and I went out ; and while 
 the afternoon light lasted we played about in the 
 yard and the granaries and the orchard, as 
 happy as kings, till between six and seven
 
 HECTOE. 135 
 
 o'clock. As we were standing in the cow-shed 
 watching the milking, we heard Madame de la 
 Meillerie call "children!" from the kitchen- 
 door, and we went in to find that it was time to 
 start home again. The miller's spring-cart was 
 at the door, and Marguerite, under Madame de 
 la Meillerie's direction, was putting armfuls of 
 straw into the back of it for Hector and me to 
 sit upon. " The children will be warmer there," 
 she said, "than on the seat, and they will be less 
 in your way. You will find it chilly, va, before 
 you get home. Tiens, Charles, fetch the Malaga ; 
 they will each take a little glass before they 
 start." 
 
 My remembrance of the drive home is much 
 more confused than my remembrance of the 
 afternoon drive out. Whether it was the Malaga, 
 or the monotonous movement, or the exposure 
 to the air, or the exceeding comfort of my posi- 
 tion in the straw, I do not know, but I continued 
 all along the road to fall asleep, and to wake up 
 at intervals to see nothing but the clear dark sky 
 above, and the outlines of Esquebesse's tall 
 figure, and the miller's heavy round back, black 
 and solid, in front of us, against the clearer dark- 
 ness of the atmosphere. After a while the stars 
 came out, and the miller lighted one of the
 
 136 I^ECTOR. 
 
 lanterns of the cart. Each time I woke the air 
 seemed to me a little fresher. Each time I woke 
 I saw Hector sitting up in the opposite corner 
 of the cart with a face that looked like white 
 marble in the starlight, and dark eyes wide 
 open, but I was covered warmly with a sack ; 
 the freshness of the air only made me sleep the 
 more soundly, and I took heed of nothing, till, 
 when we must have already long passed Cassagne 
 on our homeward way, I was wakened by Hector 
 nudging me persistently. I could not at first 
 think what he wanted, but I soon heard that 
 Esquebesse and the miller were talking together 
 on their elevated seat, and the night wind was 
 blowing their words back to us. 
 
 " Yes," the miller was saying, " I see that after 
 a certain age marriage becomes a necessity. 
 While one is young all goes well ; a man likes 
 his liberty, but later on he begins to feel the 
 need of some one who is entirely devoted to 
 Sim ; some one whom he will find always there 
 when he comes in ; some one who will take care 
 of him when he is ill ; who will remember the 
 dishes that he likes ; who will look after his 
 house ; who will put his interests before every- 
 thing, You will say what you like, Esquebesse. 
 YOU are alone, and you have only yourself to
 
 HECTOR. 137 
 
 think of, so all goes well ; but a house needs a 
 woman at the head of it. I, for instance : for a 
 year now my old Marie Anna has been telling 
 me that her son wants her to go and live with 
 him at Cassagne, and she leads me in conse- 
 quence the life of a dog. I, such as you see 
 me, I dare not tell her to put four eggs in my 
 omelette on Friday, if she chooses to put but 
 three. I come in hungry, she takes pleasure in 
 making me wait half-an-hour for my dinner ; 
 and if I dare to address a reproach to her, pouf ! 
 it is her son who jumps down my throat. If I 
 am not satisfied, she asks nothing better than to 
 go and live with her own people." 
 
 Esquebesse laughed 
 
 " There is one with whom I would soon settle 
 my account." 
 
 "You laugh. It is easy for you. But I I, 
 ask you a little what would become of me if she 
 went. She has been there since the death of 
 my mother. She knows all that is in the house 
 better than I know it myself, and, if she goes, I 
 become at once a prey to all the old vultures 
 who choose to make an entrance into my house 
 for the purpose of wasting my substance. Could 
 I look after them when I have my mill to attend 
 to? Could I carry about with me the key of the
 
 138 HECTOR. 
 
 linen cupboard and the provisions ? Do I know 
 I, how many fine shirts I have, which came to 
 me from my father and my grandfather? How 
 many sheets my mother span since her mar- 
 riage how many she brought in her trousseau 
 how many she found here when she came ? 
 Marie Anna knows all that. She could tell you 
 the year in which every sheet and tablecloth was 
 spun. She keeps all that in repair; she arranges 
 the wash. I know nothing of it ; and if she 
 goes, a new one comes without interest in the 
 house, all will be under her care, and it is not 
 much that I would give for the honesty of those 
 who have no interest to serve you. All all 
 will go to rack and ruin. The furniture, which 
 Marie Anna has rubbed from her youth upwards, 
 do you suppose another will care to keep it 
 bright ? All my habits, all my tastes, which 
 Marie Anna knows as I know them myself, how 
 shall I begin to teach them to another ? I shall 
 be wretched." 
 
 " It is as clear as daylight," said Esquebesse. 
 " You must give up your liberty, and marry a 
 reasonable person, who will be able to supply 
 Marie Anna's place ; only you must persuade 
 Marie Anna to stay with you for one year after 
 your marriage in order to show your wife the 
 ways of the house."
 
 HECTOR. 139 
 
 "To show the ways of the house to my wife," 
 said Baptiste, laughing, as though the sound of 
 the words pleased him ; " that is exactly what I 
 counted upon doing. Marie Anna shall stay for 
 a year. At the end of that time my wife will 
 know all, and I shall have nothing to do but to 
 grow old in comfort, with my little ones about 
 my knees. Ha! ha! Esquebesse, why do you 
 not follow my example ? " 
 
 " Why ? " said Esquebesse, " because I have 
 not so much wealth to take care of, nor so many 
 tastes to be satisfied, nor the annoyance of 
 losing an old servant to fear; nor, before all 
 that, the pleasure of knowing a person as sensi- 
 ble and as amiable as Marie Monthez. I con- 
 gratulate you, miller, with all my heart. She. is 
 a person whom any one might be proud to see 
 at the head of his household. I have never 
 heard her spoken of with anything but the 
 greatest esteem." 
 
 Baptiste burst out laughing again, and I 
 thought it very funny while I heard him, that 
 Marie Monthez could care for any one so stupid 
 and awkward as he. 
 
 " It's not done yet," he said. "We must have 
 a little time. But we shall see we shall see. 
 Here's your turning, Esquebesse."
 
 140 HECTOR. 
 
 The cart stopped as he spoke, and we found 
 ourselves at the corner of the road which led 
 down to Esquebesse's cottage. 
 
 We all got out of the cart, and the miller 
 drove on, still chuckling to himself in high 
 good-humor. 
 
 " Great egoist, va ! " Esquebesse muttered as 
 he stood and looked after him for a moment. 
 " The idea never crosses your mind to ask your- 
 self whether you will make her happy, with your 
 tastes and your habits and your fine linen shirts. 
 But since she is good enough to love you, I ask 
 nothing better. Come, children, run to take the 
 stiffness out of your limbs." 
 
 Hector and I enjoyed the next hour at Esque- 
 be^se's cottage as much as any part of the day. 
 The dogs, hearing Esquebesse's voice, trotted 
 down the lane in friendly fashion to meet us, and 
 we all went together into the dark kitchen ; then 
 when Esquebesse had uncovered the ashes and 
 thrown a bundle of dry vine-twigs on the smoul- 
 dering hearth, he bade Hector blow up the fire 
 and showed me the sideboard at the far end, 
 where stood .everything I needed for laying the 
 table. 
 
 " It seems to me," he said, as he came back 
 with a bottle in his hand from the closet which
 
 HECTOR. I4 1 
 
 served him for cellar, "that we have no need of 
 a Marie Anna. Here is my soup, which has 
 been sjmmering all day by the hot ashes. We 
 have eggs, we have hone)', and after supper you 
 shall see if I cannot make hot wine with any 
 housewife in the country." 
 
 And, indeed, it seems to me that I have never 
 before, or since, drunk any hot wine so good. I 
 always make it on Shrove Tuesday now for 
 Grand'mere from Esquebesse's recipe, but I 
 think there must have been some virtue in the 
 little yellow earthenware saucepan he used that 
 night, or perhaps it was our appetite after the 
 long drive, or perhaps the conversation with 
 which he entertained us. 
 
 I had never thought, till I heard him talk, of 
 how much life there is in the woods ; but as I 
 listened to him I saw them peopled with a 
 thousand creatures whose very names I ignored ; 
 and while he told Hector chiefly of the habits of 
 birds and their enemies, the weasels and ferrets 
 and stoats, a new world seemed to rise up around 
 me a world in the midst of which I had lived 
 hitherto like one blind and deaf and dumb, 
 knowing nothing of that which was taking place 
 constantly under my eyes. 
 
 "Ah !" Esquebesse said, "if you do not take
 
 142 II EC TOP. 
 
 the trouble to watch them and to know their 
 lives, and to extend your sympathies towards 
 them, they are for you as if they did not exist. 
 And it is the same thing, children, between 
 human beings. " There," he took his pipe out 
 of his mouth and waved it comprehensively 
 towards the walls of the cottage, " there we are 
 surrounded by millions of joys and sorrows and 
 interests, but all rests with yourself. If you are 
 content to remain with small knowledge and 
 narrow sympathies, the world will be empty and 
 dead to you." 
 
 I thought of what Dr. Charles had said of 
 the mountains. It is a question of learning 
 their language ; and that night at all events, 
 when Esquebesse lit his lantern and took us 
 home through the woods, I did not feel as 
 though we were alone. I felt as though we 
 were walking through a crowd. The audible 
 snoring of the owls seemed to me only one voice 
 out of the millions which, had I known how to 
 listen, I might have heard.
 
 H EC TOE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 / nr*HE happiness of the next few days was 
 undisturbed, for me by anything but the 
 increasing soreness between Soeur Amelie and 
 Hector. Hector's lessons were almost always 
 badly done ; Soeur Amelie was, of course, almost 
 always vexed with him. I saw that they did not 
 like each other ; and this troubled me, for I was 
 fond of Sceur Amelie. I had been accustomed 
 to see her every day as long as ever I could 
 remember, and she had been always kind to me, 
 therefore I would have liked her to appreciate 
 Hector ; and I would have liked Hector, too, to 
 see that though she was not wise and great like 
 some of the people he had perhaps been accus- 
 tomed to in England, still she was good and 
 nice in her way. He only said that people who 
 knew nothing ought not to try and teach that 
 nothing to others, because nobody wanted to 
 learn it ; and all I could do was to try and make 
 up a little to Soeur Amelie by learning my
 
 144 H EC TOE. 
 
 own lessons extra well. I don't mean to say 
 that I always did this, because I was not very 
 fond of lessons, and Soeur Ame"lie vexed me so 
 much sometimes by the way she talked to 
 Hector, that I could not care to please her ; but 
 when I was feeling good, I tried as much as 
 I could to keep her in good-humor by doing 
 everything myself that I thought she would like, 
 and that used to make her often far pleasanter 
 to Hector. In this way we got on fairly well, 
 and when she was not there Hector and I were 
 so happy together that we scarcely thought 
 about her. 
 
 " Ze"lie," Hector said one day, when he was 
 sitting as usual on the kitchen doorstep with the 
 "Aviceptologie" open on his crossed knees, "do 
 you think I am ingenious ? " 
 
 "I think you might be ingenious if you liked," 
 I said. 
 
 "And quick and active, and full of fore- 
 thought ; also dexterous and industrious and 
 imaginative ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Hector. That's a great deal 
 to ask. . Why do you want to know? " 
 
 "Because I want to be all that." 
 
 " It is very grand to aim so high," I said, 
 with a sigh of admiration. " For quickness and
 
 HECTOR. 145 
 
 activity and cleverness, I am sure you won't 
 find it very difficult ; but for forethought and 
 industry, Hector, I don't know. You don't work 
 hard." 
 
 " I don't work at stupid things," Hector said. 
 " But I could work if it were necessary." 
 
 "Yes, that I do believe," I exclaimed joyously. 
 "If once you could make up your mind to work, 
 I am sure you would be industrious. And it 
 would be so charming, Hector, for then Soeur 
 Amelie would not be annoyed, and she would 
 see all your other good qualities." 
 
 " Because," Hector continued, without paying 
 much attention to me, " unless I can 'become all 
 these things, I shall never catch birds really 
 well. You hear what this man says : ' The first 
 and most essential of all the qualities a bird- 
 catcher must have, is taste. Without it, it is 
 impossible to insure success, and the chase 
 becoming fruitless, is soon only irksome. Taste 
 never exists without dexterity and industry, and 
 these are the two qualities which lead necessa- 
 rily to success.' And then again : 'It is also 
 important that a bird-catcher should be ingen- 
 ious, lively, active and provident, and that his 
 imagination should always be ready to come to 
 his assistance, because ' I can't read you the 
 10
 
 146 . HECTOR. 
 
 reasons, they are too long, but you will see 
 directly you begin to study the question in 
 earnest, that without these qualities one couldn't 
 hope to do any good. Patience, too. Yes, that 
 one could learn. It is more the quickness and 
 sharpness and ready imagination that bother 
 me, because you can't make yourself clever if 
 you are naturally stupid." 
 
 " But you can make yourself cleverer, I ex- 
 pect, if you are naturally a little bit clever," I 
 hazarded. " That's why everybody works at 
 everything." 
 
 "Is spinning easy?" asked Hector, looking 
 up at my distaff, which since his admiration of 
 Irma's industry I had kept more constantly 
 in use. 
 
 " Oh yes, quite easy. Try." 
 
 He tried, but the tow came in lumps and 
 would not twist, the spindle would not turn 
 round in his unaccustomed fingers. Finally, he 
 dropped it, and some of the yarn which I had 
 already spun was unwound in a dirty puddle. 
 That did not matter at all, for in a minute I had 
 broken off the dirty piece and spun as much 
 again in its place. 
 
 " It is only that you have never practised it," 
 I said to Hector, "and it is not worth your
 
 HECTOR. 147 
 
 while, for it is not boys' work. I was just as 
 bad at first, but I made myself cleverer." 
 
 " Every one here is clever," Hector said ; 
 "even Madelon knows a lot of things. She can 
 spin and weave and make wine, besides making 
 bread and bacon, and all that a common cook 
 knows how to do. As for Grand'mere, she is 
 the cleverest woman I have ever seen. If she 
 was cast on a desert island, she would do every- 
 thing that was wanted. She could sow and reap 
 and grind, and cook the food ; she could spin 
 and weave, and cut out and make the clothes. 
 She knows all about building and tiling and 
 thatching. She knows about draining land, and 
 about doctoring sick people. I think she ought 
 to be a queen." 
 
 I imagine Grand'mere in her short gray dress 
 and her shady hat and her wooden shoes, with 
 her dear old withered brown face, sitting upon 
 the throne of France, which I had always 
 pictured to myself as being made of pure gold ; 
 and fond as I was of her, I could not help 
 laughing. 
 
 " Queens are not like that, Hector," I said ; 
 " they are grand ladies, and beautiful and 
 young." 
 
 " Well, they ought to be like that," he said,
 
 148 HECTOR. 
 
 "so that they could be useful to their people. 
 What's the good of grand ladies, beautiful and 
 young, to be dressed out in silks and satins for 
 a crowd to stare at ? It would be much better 
 if they could show people how to make good 
 bread. I think what Esquebesse said, that real 
 gentlemen and kings and queens ought to be the 
 people who know most, and who do most for 
 every one else. That's why I'm going to try 
 and learn bird-catching. I don't know how to 
 do one single thing, now, that's useful." 
 
 " But, Hector, you know we learn our lessons, 
 and that will make us useful." 
 
 " If we did real sensible work, it would ; little 
 rubbish lessons, like ours, aren't any good. 
 Nobody would ever grow clever on that sort of 
 stuff; but just look at Esquebesse, how clever 
 he is with going about in the woods, watching 
 the animals and thinking as much as he likes." 
 
 I saw that Hector was as far as ever from 
 working well for Sceur Amelie, and as she was 
 at that moment coming up the lane, we dropped 
 the subject. By the time she had reached the 
 house Hector had disappeared, and a minute 
 after I caught sight of him in the stable begging 
 some hairs out of the horse's tails from Jean. 
 He stumbled through his lessons that morning,
 
 HECTOR. 149 
 
 however, without special difficulty, and in a 
 couple of hours we were both of us free to study 
 to our hearts' content the art of twisting horse- 
 hairs for birdtraps. It was in working like this 
 with Hector that I first began to understand the 
 pleasure of reading, for I saw how he got from 
 books just what he wanted to know. The 
 " Aviceptologie" told us exactly how many hairs 
 to use for the cord of a snare ; how to knot them 
 together ; how to hold them ; how to twist them ; 
 how to finish them off when they were twisted ; 
 and also, alas, the manner and purpose of their 
 use. 
 
 " I suppose a bird-catcher must kill birds," I 
 said to Hector; and I saw by his answer that he 
 had been thinking too upon this subject. 
 
 " He must kill them in these snares," he said ; 
 "but I don't intend to practice much with these. 
 I shall only use them once or twice, just to see 
 if I can, and then I shall go on regularly with 
 bird-calling. That will be as good for me, and 
 as I sha'n't wring their necks when they jcome, 
 the little extra exercise of trotting after me will 
 do the birds no harm." 
 
 Immediately after dinner we escaped to the 
 woods, and Hector began to set his snares. As 
 a snare was nothing but a noose of horse-
 
 150 HECTOR. 
 
 hair, of which one end was made fast in a 
 branch, the only difficulty of setting them was 
 to choose spots in the wood where birds were 
 likely to pass. In order to do this, we had to 
 watch the birds. Hector was very patient ; he 
 would lie for half-an-hour at a time in one spot 
 absorbed by all that he saw and heard, and 
 though my ear was never as quick as his to 
 catch the different notes of the birds' songs, 
 my eyes soon became practised, and I took 
 almost as much pleasure as he in watching the 
 strange and beautiful things that went on around 
 us. It was thus that I first conceived the love 
 of natural history which has been such a pleas- 
 ure in my life. Hour after hour, as the summer 
 went on, Hector and I used to lie side by side 
 upon our stomachs listening and looking in 
 different parts of -the woods ; and I cannot 
 attempt to write down a fiftieth part of the won- 
 derful things we saw. Insects, birds, flowers, 
 animals, even the harmless kind of serpents, 
 became interesting to us ; and in the big book- 
 case in the drawing-room, which I had never 
 thought of opening, Hector discovered an old 
 copy of M. Buffon's " Natural History," which 
 told us most things that we wanted to know. 
 On this first day, however, we were very
 
 HECTOR. 151 
 
 ignorant, and the only result of looking with all 
 our eyes, and listening with all our ears was to 
 make us feel that the woods were a thousand 
 times fuller than we had thought, and that it 
 was impossible to take count of the movement 
 which was going on there. There were num- 
 bers of birds twittering everywhere; therefore, 
 after a time, we set six snares very much on 
 chance, and after that Hector said to me that 
 we must find a bird's-nest. 
 
 " You are not going to take eggs, are you ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " No ! " he answered very shortly. " But I 
 want another snare. Have you four more horse- 
 hairs ? " 
 
 I told him that I had, and he took them and 
 knotted them together; then we hunted in the 
 bushes for a nest. Before long we found one. 
 It was built very nearly on the ground, amongst 
 the chestnut shoots which were springing up 
 from the roots of an old stump. The mother- 
 bird was sitting when we first discovered it; but, 
 frightened at our intrusion, she flew away ; and 
 while she wheeled uneasily over our heads, we 
 were able to examine at leisure the little semi- 
 circular nest, carefully and elaborately woven of 
 blades of grass, and the five greyish-brown eggs
 
 152 HECTOR. 
 
 which lay upon the warm, soft lining of the 
 nest. The sun shining through the chestnut 
 shoots threw light shadows across them, and I 
 thought what a lovely little home it was for the 
 male bird to come back to. 
 
 " Isn't she tiny," I said, " to have done all 
 this? It seems impossible that two little birds 
 should have the sense to build themselves such 
 a beautiful home." 
 
 Hector did not answer. He had fastened 
 some string to either end of his bit of twisted 
 horse-hair, and he made one end secure to a 
 chestnut branch at the back of the nest, then 
 he made a loose knot in the horse-hair itself, 
 and pulled it open with his fingers till the circle 
 of it was about the size of the nest ; this he laid 
 upon the nest, and taking in his hand the long 
 end of string which lay upon the ground, he 
 signed to me to hide with him beneath a box 
 bush. The instant we were out of sight the 
 uneasy mother-bird descended with a sudden 
 drop upon her nest, and ceasing -her little plain- 
 tive notes, seemed to swell with content to find 
 all well as she nestled once more upon the eggs. 
 I did not know what Hector meant to do, but I 
 suspected something horrible, and my heart was 
 beating fast with apprehension when I saw his
 
 HECTOR. 153 
 
 arm suddenly move. Almost at the same instant 
 there was a loud piteous tweak from the little 
 nest, and as Hector rose, I saw that the string 
 was drawn quite tight, and in the noose formed 
 by the horse-hair the bird hung by the neck 
 quite dead. 
 
 " Oh, Hector ! " I cried, " what have you 
 done ? It is cruel." 
 
 But I said no more. He looked even more 
 upset than I. There was a flushed spot in each 
 of his cheeks, and he stood with the string still 
 in his hand, staring as though fascinated at his 
 little victim. It was a brownish-yellow bird, 
 with white and black stripings underneath, and 
 the sun which shone through the chestnut twigs 
 upon the warm eggs, shone too upon its pretty 
 plumage, upon its relaxed legs and limp falling 
 head, showing too plainly that already life was 
 gone. 
 
 "I see it is true," he said. " I did not believe 
 it was so easy." 
 
 I did not say anything, but went up to the 
 nest to feel the eggs. 
 
 " I had to do it, Zelie," Hector said after a 
 little pause. " If I want to be a bird-catcher, I 
 ought to try all ways." 
 
 I was only thinking that the eggs would nevef 
 be hatched now. I could not speak.
 
 154 HECTOR. 
 
 "If I could kill the he-bird," Hector said, 
 raising his head. 
 
 " Isn't it enough ? " I asked, almost choking 
 with a kind of anger to think he could be cruel. 
 
 " It is that, if I could kill the he-bird, he 
 would never know that she was dead first, and 
 the eggs don't know they were to be hatched." 
 
 He seemed to understand what I meant, for 
 his face was red all over, and his lip was quiver- 
 ing. I saw that whatever his reason was for 
 killing the bird, he was not cruel and heartless, 
 and I was ashamed of my disloyal suspicion. I 
 did not tell him that, but when he came up to 
 undo the string from the branch to which he had 
 fastened it, and I saw that he could not see the 
 knot because two big tears had gathered in his 
 eyes, I could not help leaning over the nest and 
 putting my arm round his neck. 
 
 " Let us go and bury it somewhere," I said ; 
 " and now that we know it can be done, we shall 
 not need to take any more this way." 
 
 But we were not yet at the end of our troubles 
 on account of that little bird. 
 
 We were standing still beside the nest, Hec- 
 tor with the bird and the string in his hand, 
 when Irma came suddenly upon us. 
 
 She asked us first, in her bright cordial fashion,
 
 HECTOE. 155 
 
 what we were doing ; and then perceiving the 
 nest and the strangled bird in Hector's hand, 
 she divined what had happened, and burst out 
 into reproaches against Hector. 
 
 " What you have done is very ill," she said. 
 " You think, perhaps, that because you are only 
 a boy, you may be cruel if you like ; but it is 
 not so. Boys who have hearts amuse themselves 
 certainly, sometimes, with catching birds, but 
 they could not go and treacherously seize a poor 
 mother brooding upon her eggs. It is not only 
 she you have killed, but all those little ones ; 
 and look, there now is her mate flying home 
 with food for the family you have destroyed." 
 It was true : another bird of the same kind was 
 wheeling above our heads, showing unmistaka- 
 bly by its movements on what spot it would 
 descend. 
 
 " Ah ! poor lark," Irma cried, holding out to 
 it the dead body of its mate, " you will never 
 see her again. You will never hear her voice 
 of welcome. Keep your food, there is no one 
 at home to need it." 
 
 " Is it a lark ? " Hector asked. 
 
 " Yes, it is a lark, and you are a horribly cruel 
 boy," Irma replied with a burst of anger, which 
 even then, children as we were, we understood
 
 156 HECTOR. 
 
 to be in some measure greater, because it was 
 Georges' bird that Hector had killed. " But, 
 tenez, you will suffer for it all the same, for those 
 who have no heart do not enjoy life. They 
 make others miserable, and they are contempti- 
 ble themselves." 
 
 She spoke with so much passion that the tears 
 started to her eyes ; then, perhaps because she 
 did not want us to see, she walked on quickly 
 and left us by the nest. 
 
 Hector stood looking at the dead bird in his 
 hand. 
 
 " I think there must be somebody without 
 much heart who is making her unhappy now," 
 I said; "She was crying when she went away, 
 and she would not have been so angry only for 
 the bird." 
 
 " She might have been so angry for the 
 cruelty," Hector said. And indeed it seemed 
 as though that was the case, for we had not 
 gone much farther before we met Esquebesse, 
 and found that Irma had told him the story with 
 an indignation which had in some measure com- 
 .municated itself to him. He also spoke strongly 
 to Hector of the cruelty of killing a brooding 
 bird. 
 
 " If it is only to carry trouble and confusion
 
 HECTOR. . 157 
 
 to innocent beings, who are fulfilling the duties 
 Nature has imposed on them, that you spend 
 your time in the woods, you would do better to 
 confine yourself to the high-road," he said. 
 " To understand Nature you must love it. If 
 you would enter into the life of the woods, put 
 all thought of your own profit out of your mind ; 
 leave selfishness in the towns, and on the roads, 
 where men pass up and down. There it is per- 
 haps needed. But in the woods there is no com- 
 petition for man, no one wants to pass beyond 
 him, no one occupies themselves with the 
 thought of him ; he may forget himself alto- 
 gether. Without selfishness, neither greed nor 
 cruelty exists. The heart, if you let it, will 
 expand here naturally among the works of God; 
 but if you bring selfishness with you, you cover 
 yourself as it were with a shell which shuts you 
 out from all true fellowship with Nature. It is 
 very fine to love knowledge ; all intelligent 
 beings must necessarily love it. Listen to the 
 living sounds of the woods, and get well into 
 your little head that there is a lesson beyond all 
 others which they will teach you, if you can 
 learn it, that is, to respect the lives of others." 
 I have known since how Esquebesse carried 
 out his maxim, and how his lonely existence was
 
 158 UECTOE. 
 
 guided by respect for the lives and happiness of 
 others. But even then his slow and thoughtful 
 sentences impressed both me and Hector, and 
 we went away very gravely to bury the bird 
 Hector had killed. For a long time after that, 
 if I felt inclined to be selfish, the remembrance 
 of the cold eggs in the nest and the desolate 
 he-bird, used to come between me and my incli- 
 nation, and Esquebesse's simple "respect the 
 lives of others," has made me act kindly very 
 often since, when without the thought of it I 
 might have been unkind. 
 
 After we had buried the bird, we went with 
 some fear to visit our snares. We neither of us 
 said anything, but I am sure Hector hoped with 
 all his heart, as I did, that there might be noth- 
 ing in them. It was not till we had arrived at 
 the place where they were set that we remem- 
 bered, for the first time, the very important 
 necessity of baiting them. Naturally, as we 
 had put nothing to entice the birds into them, 
 they were all in exactly the condition in which 
 they had been left ; and Hector's face began to 
 brighten as with much alacrity we took them 
 down. 
 
 "It is not the season to set snares now," he 
 said. " I had forgotten that all the birds we
 
 HECTOE. 159 
 
 took in them would be mothers or fathers, with 
 young ones waiting for them at home. We 
 wont try them any more till the autumn or 
 winter." 
 
 This resolution cheered us both considerably; 
 but we found, to my regret, when we reached 
 the house, that the story of, as it was now 
 called, Hector's want of heart, had preceded us. 
 Grand'mere received us after her own fashion 
 with a vigorous 
 
 "Ah ! it is pretty to go out in this fine sun- 
 shine to kill mothers of families. Fi done, 
 Monsieur Hector, I should have thought you 
 had more heart." 
 
 Sceur Amelie, who was there, shook her head 
 and looked solemn, and asked how he would 
 like to have that kind of thing done to himself, 
 and whether he did not know that cruelty was a 
 sin ? Madelon even must needs say her say as 
 usual, and she jeered at the fine hunter who 
 killed his brooding birds. But Hector did not 
 seem to pay the least attention to any of them. 
 He only looked absently in front of him while 
 they talked, and slipped away almost immedi- 
 ately to the drawing-room, where I found him a 
 minute or two afterwards sitting at the foot of 
 the old bookcase absorbed in M. Buffon.
 
 160 HECTOR.^ 
 
 Grand'mere heard us there, and came in. 
 " No, no," she said, " no indulgences for people 
 who permit themselves to be selfish. The 
 drawing-room is not for children. Shut the 
 shutter." 
 
 Hector got up, with a strange white, tired 
 look on his face, and, without asking if he might 
 take the book elsewhere, he replaced it in the 
 bookshelf and left the room. I saw Grand'mere 
 look curiously after him, and I longed to tell her 
 that he was not' obstinate or hard-hearted, but I 
 did not dare. 
 
 Th.e granaries were open that day, and five 
 minutes later Hector was singing at the top of 
 his voice as he worked away with a wooden 
 spade, helping the men to fill some sacks with 
 wheat. 
 
 We saw him from the kitchen through the 
 open doors above the stable, standing by a great 
 brown heap of wheat, in his long-sleeved blue 
 pinafore, with his ruddy hair all standing out in 
 disorder round his head, and his face bright with 
 the unwonted exercise. 
 
 "There is one," said Madelon, "who doesn't 
 put himself out for what people say." 
 
 "It is greatly to be feared " Soeur Ame"lie 
 was beginning, when Grand'mere almost simul- 
 taneously answered Madelon.
 
 HECTOR. l6l 
 
 " Well, and what would you have him do go 
 and whimper in a corner because we say to him 
 a few sharp words which he deserves ? Ma foi! 
 it is a funny doctrine, and I prefer a little more 
 activity." 
 
 Soeur Amelie said no more to Grand'mere ; 
 but I am sure she talked to other people, for, 
 from that day, I could see that Hector had 
 everywhere the reputation of being heartless. 
 
 It used to make me angry to hear the neigh- 
 bors say that the English were always cold 
 hearted ; but it is difficult to silence people's 
 tongues, or to make them think what you would 
 like them to think of those you love. 
 
 In one way, however, this only drew me closer 
 to Hector ; for I think there is nothing which 
 binds you so close to any one as to be in the 
 secret of his goodness. 
 ii
 
 162 HECTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A FTER the affair of the lark, Irma seemed 
 to take quite a dislike to Hector, and as 
 she came up to Salaret twice every day to fetch 
 her milk, she soon showed it enough for him to 
 see, as well as I, what she felt. It did not make 
 a bit of difference to his admiration for her ; he 
 continued to like her just as much, and to think 
 her as pretty as he had always thought her; ana 
 he used to hang about the yard and talk to her 
 almost always when she came up to the house. 
 I think her short answers and her rebuffs hurt 
 him, because I used to see the same white, tired 
 look on his face sometimes that I had seen the 
 day Grand'mere sent him out of the drawing- 
 room ; but he never told me that they did, or 
 gave any hint that he noticed her manner to 
 him, except by just occasionally talking about 
 himself as a kind of boy you couldn't expect 
 people to care for much.
 
 HECTOR. 163 
 
 We stuck to our resolution of setting no 
 more snares in the springtime, and Hector 
 continued day after day to practice bird-calls 
 down in the woods, till he could at last imitate 
 the cry of the lark and one or two others almost 
 as well as Georges himself. I had not his ear or 
 his voice, neither should I ever have had the 
 patience to go on trying as he did, day after day, 
 so I did not attempt to learn the bird-calls ; but 
 it was a great delight to both of us to find that 
 he really was succeeding. We certainly carried 
 
 out the instructions of Monsieur B , the 
 
 unknown author of the " Aviceptologie," for 
 we spent the greater part of our time in the 
 woods studying constantly the cries of the birds, 
 and Hector endeavored, as he was told, to follow 
 their example punctually. We learned, sooner 
 than I should have thought possible, to dis- 
 tinguish between their cries of joy, their cries 
 of alarm, and the songs with which they re- 
 joiced in peace ; and often, as we sat together 
 listening on a chestnut stump, I used to amuse 
 Hector by making up whole stories out of the 
 different cries we heard uttered and answered. 
 Grand'mere did not mind how long we stayed 
 out of doors, for I always took my spinning with 
 me, and in ordinary seasons there was nothing
 
 164 II EC TOE. 
 
 special for Hector to do at the farm. She fan- 
 cied, I believe, that we stayed in the wood near 
 the house ; but we did not really, for there was 
 a particular kind of couch-grass which Hector 
 wanted very much for making whistles to imitate 
 the cry of the owl, and we roamed through all 
 the woods in the neighborhood in the hope of 
 rinding it. We never succeeded in finding 
 exactly the sort which the author of the "Avi- 
 ceptologie " recommended, but we found two or 
 three other kinds, and in our search after it 
 became by degrees acquainted with a great many 
 of the grasses and flowers of our woods which I, 
 at least, should probably never have known had 
 it not been for Hector's activity. 
 
 In these rambles too we used often to meet 
 Dr. Charles of Portalouve, and he always took 
 some kindly notice of us. He interested him- 
 self in our search after the couch-grass, and in 
 fact joined in it, for he too was constantly 
 hunting for specimens of our native plants. 
 Whenever we met we used to ask news of each 
 other of the couch-grass, and he used to look at 
 the flowers we had gathered and tell us about 
 them. Then, too, he was often hungry and far 
 away from his dinner, and he used to delight us 
 by simply accepting half of the bread and
 
 HECTOR. 165 
 
 garlic, or curd cheese, with which we were 
 generally provided. I have known since that 
 his mother used to be vexed that he, whose 
 parents were so well to do, should wander about 
 the country like a poor man trusting to the 
 chance of finding himself near some little 
 country inn to eat ; but he never was able to 
 remember those things for himself, and it used 
 to make us very happy to meet him, and have 
 the chance of dividing our goiiter into three 
 parts instead of two. We always took care that 
 his part should be the largest, and he used often 
 to see that, and laugh and say, " Nevertheless, I 
 accept ; I am hungrier than you ; " and then we 
 could almost have hugged him for pleasure. 
 
 One day we were all three sitting on a heap 
 of stones by the roadside, eating bread and 
 garlic, with a great bundle of faded flowers, and 
 the specimen box and my distaff lying in the 
 dust beside us, when a handsome carriage rolled 
 slowly past, in which was one little shrivelled old 
 man. He was wrapped up in a great-coat and 
 scarf, though the day was so warm that we had 
 been freely wiping our faces with our handker- 
 chiefs just before he came up; and when he saw 
 Dr. Charks he stopped the carriage. 
 
 " I know it is folly, Doctor, for me to be out,"
 
 166 HECTOR. 
 
 he said in a thin, quavering voice, "but they 
 told me my voice might be useful in the elec- 
 tions to the Conseils G^neraux, and they dragged 
 me from my chimney corner." 
 
 "There is no harm in that, monsieur; to 
 move about a little will do you good. And how 
 go the elections ?" 
 
 " Badly, as badly as they can" go. I knew it 
 beforehand, and I told them it was useless to 
 disturb ourselves. What is the voice of a 
 gentleman nowadays ? Worse than nothing 
 amidst the common herd which takes pleasure 
 in voting against him. I saw to-day, in the 
 voting hall, a man who used to be my gardener, 
 who is now a member of the town council, and 
 whose vote is worth as much as mine. They 
 say even that he has influence, and that the 
 greater part of the town council votes with him. 
 The elections have become a farce. I will 
 occupy myself with them no more. May God 
 watch over our unhappy country." 
 
 Dr. Charles was looking very thoughtful. 
 
 " I dare to believe, monsieur, that He will 
 not abandon us," he replied gravely. 
 
 " What I wanted to speak to you about, 
 Doctor, was that last medicine you sent me," 
 continued the quavering voice. " It is not
 
 HECTOR. 167 
 
 strong enough. I begin to think now that I 
 need a tonic." 
 
 " Tonics only serve to augment an evil, unless 
 the system has been prepared to receive them," 
 Dr. Charles replied, in the same thoughtful tone 
 as before. 
 
 " Then for Heaven's sake prepare my system," 
 the old gentleman answered impatiently ; and 
 Dr. Charles seemed to wake up into sudden 
 laughter, as he replied : 
 
 "That is not so easy, monsieur, as at first 
 sight it may seem." 
 
 A few more remarks were made about the 
 medicine and exercise and a wholesome diet, 
 and the carriage drove on, leaving Dr. Charles 
 still half thoughtful, half amused. 
 
 Hector had stood listening to the dialogue. 
 
 "Is that one of your French aristocracy?" he 
 asked, as the carriage drove away. 
 
 " Exactly. That is M. le Comte, of whom 
 you must have heard Esquebesse speak. 
 
 We all sat down and applied ourselves again 
 to our bread and garlic in silence, till presently 
 Hector's eyes fell on the bundle of flowers in 
 the road. " Supposing some giant collector was 
 looking out for specimens of men and women," 
 he said, " and he happened to pick up M. le
 
 x68 HECTOR. 
 
 Comte, wouldn't he think we were a queer little 
 lot, and would'nt he be pretty well puzzled, too, 
 to know how all the things in the world got 
 done?" 
 
 "Ay, indeed," Dr. Charles said. "And the 
 same thing is but too true of many of our 
 gentlemen of the old blood. They need a tonic 
 badly, but who is to prepare their system ? " 
 
 " Is it idleness," Hector asked, " that makes 
 them what they are ? " 
 
 " Esquebesse would tell you that idleness is at 
 the bottom of most evils, for idleness is pretty 
 sure to bring self-indulgence, and self-indulgence 
 brings selfishness. Esquebesse has too much 
 heart ever to have worked for himself alone, 
 therefore he thinks there is safety in work ; but 
 I have seen industrious men only the more 
 selfish because they have worked hard for them- 
 selves. They gratify their own wants so well, 
 that they forget there are any other wants in 
 the universe." 
 
 Hector listened in the eager way in which 
 he always did to anything which exercised his 
 mind. 
 
 " Yes," he said at once, " but he grinds the 
 corn and people eat it, so that even if he doesn't 
 care to be of use he is of use. That's better 
 than a selfish gentleman."
 
 HECTOR. 169 
 
 I knew of course that he was thinking of the 
 miller, and what he said made me begin to think 
 in my own heart that perhaps it was better not 
 to be a gentleman, since a working-man had 
 only to be honest and respectable in order to be 
 of some use, and a gentleman might so easily 
 be of no use at all. 
 
 But Dr. Charles seemed interested by Hector's 
 eagerness. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "if we except a selfish lady," 
 he patted my head kindly as he spoke as though 
 to show that he did not think me selfish, "a 
 selfish gentleman is perhaps what there is of 
 worst in the human species, for the same posi- 
 tion which gives him advantages for himself 
 makes him necessarily an example and leader to 
 many other people. The power of the cultivated 
 man is very great. If he teaches nothing but 
 selfishness he betrays his trust, and probably 
 does, if we could calculate it, a great deal more 
 harm than the ruffian who cuts his neighbor's 
 throat for the sake of a few gold coins. On the 
 other hand, we must remember this : that if the 
 power of the cultivated is enormous, it is great 
 for good as well as for evil. Putting on one 
 side the great deeds of history for which heroes 
 have been found in all ranks, we have only tc
 
 170 HECTOR. 
 
 look round us honestly in any civilized country, 
 and we see worthy and devoted gentlemen doing 
 good which the poor and uncultivated, however 
 well-disposed, could never hope to achieve. 
 There are gentlemen who do not cultivate 
 themselves, then they or their children soon 
 drop from the rank of their forefathers, and are 
 lost in the mass of the uneducated. There are 
 among the poor some who have the energy and 
 the power to cultivate themselves; these rise, 
 either in their own persons or the persons of 
 their children, to the rank of gentlemen. I 
 make no hard-and-fast line of aristocratic de- 
 scent, but I call the mass of the rich and the 
 cultivated gentlemen, and I maintain that in all 
 civilized countries this great mass is doing, on 
 the whole, enormous good. If you belong to it 
 by birth, I would say hold on to it by every 
 means in your power. Never abandon the 
 possibilities for good with which you have been 
 endowed. If you do not belong to it by birth, 
 strive to rise towards it try to win a place for 
 your children in the upper half of humanity. 
 Knowledge and riches are an immense power. 
 Men ought to be powerful ; and I would no more 
 advise the ploughman to be content to remain 
 ignorant and half brutalized, than I would advise
 
 HECTOR. 171 
 
 the gentleman to be content to live on the 
 reputation of his father's deeds. As for me, 1 
 respect what is above me, and my idea is that 
 we should all go higher together. After that, 
 I am only a little middle-class doctor, and the 
 idea of our aristocracy seems unfortunately to 
 be that we should all go lower together. M. le. 
 Comte, you see, is not only determined to take 
 no more interest in the elections himself, but he 
 is angry that' his gardener should take an interest 
 in them either. Such things, Hector, when you 
 see them in high places, are sad, but they bring 
 home more and more the lesson that every man 
 should set it before himself as an aim to add 
 something to the knowledge and advantages of 
 his fathers." 
 
 There was something in Hector, I think, 
 which made people talk to him in this way. He 
 took so much interest in everything that went 
 on round him, that he scarcely seemed at times 
 like a child. People seemed to take pleasure in 
 telling him their real thoughts, and I, going 
 about always with him and listening to his talks, 
 got to know our nearer neighbors more inti- 
 mately in a month or two with him than in all 
 the years I had lived amongst them alone. This 
 talk with Dr. Charles has remained in my mem-
 
 172 HECTOE. 
 
 ory, because it was, I think, the first thing which 
 made me begin to feel myself what Hector felt 
 that we had special duties, because we were 
 born in what Dr. Charles called the upper half 
 of mankind. I had always thought before that 
 it was very lucky for me that Grand'mere wasn't 
 poor, like some of the peasants about Salaret, 
 who had to keep their children at work all day, 
 and feed them chiefly on chestnuts like the pigs, 
 and I had even wondered sometimes why I 
 should have been so favored ; but now I began 
 to understand the balance of things, and to see 
 that if I had better I ought also to do better. 
 
 Dr. Charles said more than I have repeated 
 about the use and power of cultivation. He 
 told us, just as Esquebesse had done, how know- 
 ledge opened the heart, and made men feel the 
 joys and sorrows of other people. He told us 
 how much the poor people everywhere needed 
 knowledge, and how much the rich were able 
 when they chose to give it to them ; and after 
 this day I never was inclined to think any more, 
 as Hector had sometimes made me think, that 
 perhaps it was better not to be a gentleman : I 
 saw that the best was to be a gentleman, and a 
 good gentleman. 
 
 As Dr. Charles and Hector and I were going
 
 HECTOR. 173 
 
 back towards Salaret that day we met Irma 
 bringing her little brothers and sisters home 
 from the Salle d'Asile. They were all so small, 
 that as she walked amongst them with her dis- 
 taff raised, she reminded us of the goose-girls 
 when they drive their flocks through the stubble- 
 fields after the corn has been cut ; and Dr. 
 Charles said to her, laughingly, as we met 
 
 " You are bringing back all your little geese 
 quite safe, Irma." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Monsieur le Docteur," she replied, 
 with her old bright smile, " and the Sisters tell 
 me that they are good little geese, especially 
 this one." She laid her hand kindly as she 
 spoke on a little bullet head which reached but 
 a short way above her knee, and received an 
 affectionate rub in answer from the proud object 
 of her praise. " That big one there is begin- 
 ning to read words of two syllables. He can 
 answer his questions nicely in his Histoire 
 Sainte, and he can count well now. This one," 
 and the hand went down again to the tiny crea 
 ture at her knee, " can count up to ten, and 
 sings like a little choir-boy." 
 
 " The big one there" was not seven yet ; and 
 " this one " was between two and three. There 
 were five altogether, and Irma looked at them
 
 174 HECTOR. 
 
 so proudly and affectionately that Dr. Charles 
 said 
 
 " Why, Irma, to see you so pleased with them, 
 one might think they were your own." 
 
 //// Monsieur le Docteur : they are as good 
 as mine, since they are my brothers and sisters, 
 and we must hold together. Without that what 
 would become of the family ? Heaven knows, 
 I ask nothing better than to work hard and do 
 my share towards maintaining them. But there 
 are sacrifices before which one draws back." 
 
 Her face had grown grave while she was 
 speaking. 
 
 We did not understand what she meant, but 
 Dr. Charles seemed to understand, for he said 
 warmly and kindly 
 
 " At least, Irma, you have the sympathy of 
 all people of heart, for when such sacrifices are 
 not necessary no one can wish to see them 
 made ; especially if they involve the happiness 
 of more than one person." 
 
 The last words brought the color so vividly 
 back to Irma's cheeks, that without knowing 
 quite what the sacrifice she spoke of could be, 
 Hector and I were at once sure it had something 
 to do with Georges. 
 
 " Thank you, monsieur," she said. " You do
 
 HECTOR. 175 
 
 me good. When one is alone, and then .luty 
 seems to put itself on the other side, it is hard 
 sometimes to keep up one's resolution. Voyons, 
 Jeanne, say ' Bonjour, monsieur et compagnie.' " 
 
 Jeanne looked very shy for a moment, but as 
 Irma insisted on the greeting, and the other 
 children said it boldly in chorus, Jeanne made 
 her little curtsey to Dr. Charles. 
 
 "Bonjour, monsieur," she said; then to Hec- 
 tor, with another curtsey, " Bonjour, compagnie." 
 And while we all laughed at the dignity to which 
 Hector was raised, Irma caught her up in her 
 arms and carried her away with a hearty kiss. 
 
 We children longed to know what the sacri- 
 fice for her brothers and sisters, of which she 
 had spoken, could possibly be. We would have 
 given a good deal to ask Dr. Charles, but though 
 we chattered to him quite freely about many 
 things, we did not dare to ask him this, and it 
 was not till he had left us that we gave our 
 whole mind to conjectures upon the matter. 
 The great secret seems to me now so simple, 
 that I hardly know how we could help guessing 
 it ; but notwithstanding Hector's readings in 
 his uncle's library, we were quite ignorant of 
 such affairs, and the little brothers and sisters 
 puzzled us completely. How Irma could be in
 
 176 HECTOR, 
 
 any way called upon to sacrifice herself for 
 them was a wonderful mystery to us, and our 
 guesses were wide of the mark till it struck me 
 one day that we might go to the forge and ask 
 Pierre. He would know, we felt sure, and we 
 were not shy with him. He did know, and after 
 assuring us that the matter could not interest 
 us, and that children could not possibly under- 
 stand such things, he told us that Lagrace was 
 poor, and found it hard to bring up his large 
 family, and that there was an offer of a rich 
 marriage for Irma with a middle-aged man, who 
 was willing to take her without a marriage por- 
 tion. Irma stuck still to Georges, but her par- 
 ents told her it was her duty to think of her 
 family, and that it was unnatural to think more 
 of Georges, who was a stranger, than of the 
 little brothers and sisters, who were her own 
 flesh and blood. Every one blamed her, Pierre 
 said, for resisting her parents' wishes ; but when 
 our hearts were beating fast with excitement 
 over the story, and our hopes for Georges were 
 very low, Pierre cheered us by the declaration 
 that he, at all events, did not blame her. To 
 his mind, he said, it was an abominable crime to 
 take her from Georges and give her, all young 
 and generous and pretty as she was, to a great
 
 HECTOR. 177 
 
 clumsy fellow, old enough to be her father, who 
 had never even suspected that there is anything 
 else to do in the world but to fill one's own 
 stomach and amass gold pieces. 
 
 It is easy to imagine how indignantly we two 
 echoed Pierre's opinion. Hector's astonished 
 disgust knew no bounds, and Pierre said it did 
 him good to talk to us ; that only children 
 remained natural now-a-days. Hector would 
 have liked to go straight away and tell Georges 
 what they were doing. Pierre told him that 
 that would be of no use, for poor people were 
 not like the rich ; they had to sit still often and 
 be patient, no matter what fretted their hearts. 
 Georges could not leave his regiment, and it 
 would only make him miserable to know what 
 Irma was suffering. But for the poor as for the 
 rich, Pierre said "there is the justice of GOD, 
 and we shall see yet if courage and good faith 
 will not triumph over avarice and selfishness." 
 12
 
 178 J1ECTQE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 l^ROM this time the affair of Georges and 
 Irma occupied our thoughts a great deal. 
 But as Irma had said, people were too busy in 
 the summer months to think about getting 
 married, and we heard nothing more of it for 
 a long time. 
 
 The hay was cut, the cherry harvest had 
 come and gone, the granaries at Salaret were 
 filled again almost to bursting, and the worst 
 heats of summer were over, when one Saturday 
 afternoon Hector and I were down, as usual, at 
 the forge. 
 
 Except on the Saturdays when Grand'mere 
 took us to Cassagne, we hardly ever failed to 
 spend part of that afternoon with Pierre. He 
 called it his reception day. His friends were 
 the peasants, and merchants, and peddlers, and 
 tramps, who passed to and from the market, and 
 though they gave him many a job as they went, 
 it was not only for the pleasure of seeing Pierre
 
 HECTOR. 179 
 
 work, that we used to go on Saturdays to the 
 forge. It was for the fun of hearing the gossip, 
 and seeing the people pass by. I have thought 
 since then that Pierre's Saturday reception was 
 to us what the newspapers are to grown-up 
 people, with the difference that we got our news 
 alive. He was such a general favorite that no 
 one would have passed the forge without stop- 
 ping to tell any interesting piece of gossip they 
 knew, and the common remarks of those who 
 had nothing to tell showed what subjects occu- 
 pied people's thoughts. The crops in their 
 various seasons, the weather, the goose fatten- 
 ing, the election, all formed in their turn the 
 basis of Saturday conversation, and we used to 
 think, then, it was a funny charm which made 
 everyone speak of the same thing. If the 
 farmer's wife from the nearest farm said as 
 she passed, " Good day, M. Pierre. What a 
 wind for the orchards ! the ground was strewn 
 with little pears under my big pear-tree this 
 morning," then we knew that everyone who 
 went by would tell us of the damage done to his 
 orchard by the wind that night. 
 
 As people trudged in laden in the early part 
 of the day they seldom stopped to talk, but if 
 Pierre happened to stand at the door of the forge
 
 i8o HECTOR. 
 
 each gave some such bit of personal news as he 
 went, and received two words in answer. It was 
 in the afternoon that Hector and I loved to 
 hang about the door. Then, as the merry 
 groups clattered home with empty baskets, the 
 girls and boys in their smart market clothes 
 rejoicing to be rid of their loads, and heads of 
 families looking content to have the day's gain 
 stowed away in some safe inner pocket, everyone 
 was disposed to dawdle, and all the stories of 
 the market were repeated to us with comments 
 and variations. Personal anecdotes and gossip 
 were mingled then with business talk about 
 seed-time and harvest, and Hector and I scarcely 
 knew whether we enjoyed most to listen to the 
 circle on the threshold of the forge, or to climb 
 the mound at the opposite side of the road and 
 look out for our friends as they came. We used 
 to try which of us could recognize them best at 
 a great distance on the road, and though we 
 sometimes made funny mistakes, there were 
 people whom we always knew. Irma Lagrace 
 was one. She used to walk so straight, and look 
 so slim and neat in the sunshine that streamed 
 through the poplars, that we never mistook her 
 for any of the other girls of the neighborhood, 
 and her daik red skirf and white capeline made
 
 HECTOR. 181 
 
 one of the spots of color for which we used to 
 look with the greatest interest ; Dr. Charles's 
 carriage with the yellow horse ; Esquebesse and 
 his dogs were very welcome too ; but I think 
 that our chief delight on Saturdays was to see 
 Baptiste the miller go by. He had a heavy old 
 horse who used to canter with his head down 
 between his fore legs, and, though Baptiste had 
 been pulling him for nearly twenty years, he had 
 never succeeded in pulling his head up. So they 
 went by fighting with each other every week, 
 Baptiste bumping up and down in the saddle, 
 with the two white bags in which he brought 
 home what he wanted from market, flying out on 
 either side, his blouse filled with wind, and his 
 face like a full-blown peony. He looked always 
 so heavy and awkward and hot, that we who did 
 not care for him used to get a great deal of 
 amusement out of the contrast between his 
 figure and that of his little old servant Marie 
 Anna, who went by every Saturday, too, on a 
 donkey, with a big basket over her arm, looking 
 so immovable in her saddle, that she and the 
 donkey and the basket might all have been 
 made of wood, and who never failed to call out 
 in her shrill, hard voice : 
 
 " Has the miller passed this way ? "
 
 182 HECTOR. 
 
 On the particular Saturday of which I speak, 
 people were very late in returning from the 
 market ; the afternoon was wearing on, and we 
 were still inside the forge when we heard the 
 voice of Marie Anna calling out as usual to 
 know if the miller had yet passed by. 
 
 Pierre went out upon the threshold. 
 
 " Not a living soul has passed since dinner- 
 time," he said. " They have had enough, no 
 doubt, of the great heat, and are waiting for the 
 cool of the evening." But we saw, while he 
 spoke, that the stream of home-comers had set 
 in, for the road so empty before was covered 
 now with moving groups. 
 
 " That's it," grumbled Marie Anna, " every- 
 thing passes now before work. The weather is 
 warm; there is news at the market, and no 
 matter what becomes of the work, so long as we 
 take our ease like princes. It is time for these 
 things to finish ; my master is losing his head." 
 
 "There is news at the market?" Pierre asked, 
 and we children opened our ears for Marie 
 Anna's answer. 
 
 " They speak of nothing but the soldiers," she 
 replied. " It seems we are to Jiave five or six 
 thousand of them on our backs before long, 
 stuffing themselves with our provisions, and
 
 HECTOR. 183 
 
 helping themselves without Yes or No to all 
 that there is of best in the country. Ah, I 
 know what it is. They will pass like a pest. 
 After them will come desolation. I have seen 
 it. And over there, at the market, they are 
 rejoicing like children because it is new." She 
 spoke with all the contempt of experience for 
 the ignorant, and we thought that the miller 
 would have to be braver than he looked if he 
 ventured to rejoice with her eye upon him. 
 
 " It is settled then," said Pierre. " The 
 soldiers come decidedly. And when must we 
 expect to see them ? " 
 
 " Next month, just in the middle of the vin- 
 tage. Six thousand of them to be quartered off 
 and on for a month in this arrondissement of 
 two thousand inhabitants. Think if we shall 
 have them into our very lofts ; and think what 
 will remain to us of our crops after they are 
 gone." 
 
 "Allans, Marie Anna. We mustn't judge 
 them beforehand. As for me, you know I have 
 my nephew Georges in the army, and for his 
 sake the soldiers shall be well received in my 
 house." 
 
 Georges's return had been our first thought 
 when we heard the news, and we were radiant
 
 184 HECTOE. 
 
 already. But Marie Anna was not to be 
 appeased. 
 
 " Much they will care," she croaked, " how 
 they are received. It is the first time we have 
 had such an occupation since you have known 
 how to understand things, but I know. I have 
 a good memory. I do not forget. They will 
 pass like grasshoppers ; nothing will remain to 
 us. The English themselves were not so bad as 
 the French." 
 
 " Bah ! we are not in time of war now. War 
 changes the natures of men ; but our soldiers 
 are good. Que diable ! They are the sons and 
 the brothers and the nephews of people like 
 ourselves, and when they come in tired and 
 footsore and hungry, and see there before them 
 the master of the house, who bids them welcome, 
 and pours them out a draught of good little 
 white wine, they will say to themselves, 'Tiens! 
 it is like our father, or our brother, or our uncle, 
 down there at home ; ' they will drink to his 
 health, and they will be ashamed to do anything 
 in his house which they would not do in the 
 house of their own relations." 
 
 One or two other people had come up, and 
 there was a murmur of assent to what Pierre 
 said, only Marie Anna remained unconvinced, 
 and Pierre continued :
 
 HECTOR. 185 
 
 " When you saw soldiers here it was in time 
 of war. Instead of saying to themselves, 'We 
 shall soon return into our villages, and we shall 
 be ashamed if we have done things that are 
 disgraceful,' they said to themselves : ' We are 
 going into battle to be killed for something we 
 don't care about at all. We have to give up our 
 homes, and our families, and everything our 
 hearts cling to. Then let us be merry and 
 enjoy what we can take. It is only just for 
 others to suffer in their turn.' Everyone can't 
 be a hero, and despair makes monsters of men. 
 Also after having killed men for duty, after hav- 
 ing seen one's self splashed with human blood, 
 after having marched over the bodies of your 
 comrades, without paying attention to anything 
 but the order of your commander to close up the 
 ranks, your moral ideas are so upset that a little 
 robbery and violence seems of small account. 
 Manoeuvres in time of peace are quite another 
 thing. Then the soldier is a good honest fellow, 
 who follows his trade like one of ourselves. 
 And why should he exercise himself in arms ? 
 why should he sweat under the marches and 
 counter-marches, which you will see when they 
 are here ? why should he have always under his 
 eyes the possibility that he will hear one day,
 
 l86 HECTOR. 
 
 ' War is declared,' and will be sent with his 
 pouch full of cartridges to fight upon our 
 frontier? Why? That he may defend us, that 
 we good bourgeois of Cassagne may sleep in our 
 beds tranquil, and say to ourselves, ' If the 
 invader comes, the army is there ; the soldiers 
 will give their lives for us.' '' 
 
 The little circle had grown wider round the 
 door of the forge, and Pierre's words were 
 received with a sort of acclamation. 
 
 " That's it, Pierre. You are right. We must 
 think of that," rose in murmurs from one side 
 and the other, and more than one mother whose 
 son's life had been given, drew a brown hand 
 across her eyes, and declared that for her part 
 the soldiers were welcome. 
 
 I could see that Hector was listening eagerly, 
 and I felt much excited. Young as I had been 
 at the time of the war, I remembered still the 
 terrible scenes of desolation, when mothers and 
 fathers came up to Salaret to tell Grand'mere of 
 the death of their children ; I remembered, too, 
 to have seen Grand'mere weep at the news of a 
 great battle that was lost, and I felt for the 
 moment, while Pierre was speaking, that I would 
 have given everything I possessed to the soldiers. 
 I think Hector felt something like that too, for
 
 HECTOR. 187 
 
 his eyes glowed as he stood with his gaze riveted 
 on Pierre ; then, when Pierre had finished speak- 
 ing, he looked with a sort of curious interest at 
 the hard peasant faces, moved as they were with 
 generous thoughts, and said to me, " I would 
 like to be a soldier." Esquebesse made one of 
 the circle to which Pierre had spoken, and he 
 said : 
 
 " What you say, Pierre, is very true. The 
 French soldier does not serve for his own profit. 
 All that he gets from the nation, besides his 
 food and his clothes and his tobacco, is one little 
 sou a day, and since for that he gives us every- 
 thing, we need not grudge him once in a way a 
 share of our good things. The billeting orders 
 are that each officer is to have a room to himself, 
 and the soldiers shelter and straw, and a place 
 to light their fire ; but we will receive them 
 better than that. Everyone will do according to 
 his means, and, for my part, so long as there is 
 wine in the cellar, and vegetables in the garden ; 
 those who are billeted on me shall find their 
 wine and their soup ready for them every day." 
 
 The hospitable feeling once expressed, seemed 
 to spring up in all hearts, and everyone agreed 
 that to give the soldiers their wine and soup was 
 the least that those who could afford it might do.
 
 i88 HECTOE. 
 
 Hector whispered to me that Irma and her 
 father had joined the group, and we looked at 
 Irma with joy and congratulation in our faces, 
 but she did not see us. She was listening with 
 moist eyes and a bright spot of color in each 
 cheek. While expressions of sympathy were 
 arising on all sides, mixed with declarations that 
 in the neighborhood of Cassagne the soldiers 
 should not want, Baptiste the miller cantered up. 
 
 " Well," he said, " it is lucky for us that the 
 splendid summer has ripened all the crops early. 
 We shall get in the maize without loss. But, in 
 spite of the fine weather, it is a bad look-out 
 for those whose wealth is in vines." 
 
 " Why so ? " asked one or two whose vineyards 
 were well known. 
 
 "Why ? " Because if those rascals of soldiers 
 are to be here in the first week of Octobei, you 
 must begin to cut the grapes at once, otherwise 
 you will make no wine this year." 
 
 "There is what I said," murmured Marie 
 Anna. " He has some good sense, in spite of 
 all." 
 
 " Do you suppose they will respect property?" 
 Baptiste went on. "Not they; they will help 
 themselves to what they like. After their 
 passage the gardens and vineyards will be as
 
 HECTOR. 189 
 
 bare as my hand. This is what comes of your 
 good-foi -nothing Republican government. With 
 all their talk about peace, they bind on our backs 
 military burdens we never had before. But the 
 soldiers whom they quarter on me shall not 
 desire to return, I promise you that." 
 
 Baptiste was evidently out of temper ; his 
 words fell like a chill on the enthusiasm of the 
 little assembly. Faces which a minute before 
 had been looking tender and generous, became 
 suddenly careworn and hard again. People 
 turned somewhat anxiously towards him, and no 
 one answered till Esquebesse took his pipe out 
 of his mouth and said quietly : 
 
 "They will not touch the vines. Government 
 has taken strong measures to prevent damages." 
 
 I learnt then how true it is that there are two 
 sides to every question. Before Baptiste came 
 up, everyone seemed to agree with Pierre, and 
 to wish to be generous to the soldiers. Now 
 that Baptiste advised them to be selfish, a 
 number seemed suddenly to change round to 
 his view, and to think it best to be selfish, as he 
 said. Irma's father was one of them. 
 
 " For my part," he said, " I am of the opinion 
 of the miller. What is happening to us is a 
 misfortune from which we shall take a long time
 
 ^9 HECTOR. 
 
 to recover. Why should we stint our children 
 to give wine and soup to soldiers? Already to 
 have them here is ruin enough, and as for me, 
 I will give nothing but what the law obliges." 
 
 Irma flushed, but a woman who had spoken 
 of her boys in the army, cried out : 
 
 " It is all one. They are our sons, and we 
 owe them something. Especially you, M. La- 
 grace. You have young sons ; their turn will 
 come, and one day you will be glad if you can 
 think in \our heart, 'Eh, bien! when I had the 
 chance, I did what I could for the soldiers.' " 
 
 The discipline of the metairie would have 
 forbidden Irma to say a word in answer to her 
 father, but this woman seemed to express just 
 what Irma felt, for the flush of vexation faded 
 partially away, and there came a bright grateful 
 look into her eyes. 
 
 " I don't think, papa," she ventured, " that 
 Valentine or Maurice will ever be good-for-noth- 
 ings or robbers." 
 
 Her voice was so low and sweet after the loud 
 argumentative tones, that all eyes turned towards 
 her. But her father seemed vexed, and answered 
 sharply : 
 
 " Do me the pleasure to be silent. It is not 
 for the chillren to mix themselves up with
 
 HECTOR. 191 
 
 affairs which concern their fathers. Yes," he 
 continued sarcastically, " the young girls who 
 think of nothing but dressing themselves up 
 smart, and running out to see the grand parades, 
 and to hear the military masses, will welcome 
 the soldiers, but their parents have a little more 
 foresight. They know what it is to have their 
 vineyards stripped, and their poultry robbed, 
 and their gardens ravaged. They know that 
 they will pay dearly for a few grand sights. 
 And it wont be the young girls who will sing, 
 either, after the soldiers are gone. Those who 
 respect themselves will remain close in their 
 fathers' houses, and will think rather of the 
 misfortune of their parents than of their own 
 pleasure." 
 
 Irma dropped her eyes quietly to her knitting 
 while her father was speaking, but when he had 
 finished, and the miller from his place of eleva- 
 tion on the horse's back called out : 
 
 " That's it. The women should show the 
 soldiers we don't want them in the country." 
 
 She flashed up to him such a glance of dislike 
 that Hector and I saw plainly she shared our 
 feelings against the fat egoist. 
 
 The arguments for and against the soldiers 
 could not go on for ever. People had to be
 
 192 HECTOE. 
 
 moving home. So after Pierre and Esquebesse 
 had said a little more in their favor, and the 
 miller a good bit more against them, the little 
 rircle round the forge broke up, and group after 
 group went away through the lengthening shad- 
 ows, to spread in their various villages the great 
 news that the soldiers were coming. 
 
 As Irma and her father were moving away, 
 we noticed with some excitement that Hector's 
 tramp, who seemed to find profit in passing up 
 and down this particular road, had been listening 
 on the outskirts of the little crowd. 
 
 "Ah! you are perfectly right," he said to the 
 miller, who had dismounted, and was walking 
 beside Lagrace. " You will see queer things 
 ivhen the soldiers are here. I know them, I." 
 
 Then Irma's repressed irritation burst sud- 
 denly out, and, turning upon him, she said with 
 a sort of fury, before the miller had time to 
 speak : 
 
 " What can you know about good people ? 
 You are a scoundrel ; go away." 
 
 After that she walked on fast towards the 
 farm alone, knitting swiftly as she went, with 
 the hot color flaming in her cheeks. 
 
 As for us, our excitement was beyond words. 
 After having thought at first only of Georges,
 
 HECTOR. 193 
 
 we had now taken in the great fact that in 
 another week or two the country would be 
 swarming with soldiers : if everyone were to 
 have them in their houses, we also should have 
 some at Salaret, and, after watching the last 
 group leave the forge, we ran home up the lane, 
 bursting with anxiety to tell Grand'mere the 
 great news, and to find out how she meant to 
 receive, our soldiers.
 
 194 HECTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 T__pOR the next few days we could think of 
 nothing else but soldiers. Grand'mere 
 entered to a great extent into our feelings, and 
 though she smiled at our enthusiasm and de 
 clared herself too old now to be excited about 
 new things, she patted my head and said that 
 she liked to see my cheeks burning, for generous 
 blood was easily stirred when it was young. She 
 soon set our hearts at rest as to the manner in 
 which she meant to receive her soldiers, for, the 
 very first evening, when we ran home fresh from 
 the discussion at the forge and repeated all we 
 could remember, she said that Pierre and Esque- 
 besse had spoken well, and she had declared, 
 before Jean and Madelon and one or two farm 
 laborers, that any of the metayers who wished 
 to obtain favor from her would do well to 
 receive the soldiers hospitably. In the course 
 of the next day, some of the metayers came up 
 to Salaret to ask what she thought about cutting
 
 HECTOR. 195 
 
 the grapes, and her answer to the first made us 
 perfectly happy. People would do what they 
 liked, she said, about their own grapes, but she 
 hoped that she might never see the day when 
 the vintage began on her land before the second 
 week in October. In the good old times when 
 she was young, the grapes were never cut till 
 the first frost had touched them, and fires had 
 to be lit in the vineyards to warm the hands of 
 the grape-cutters. People had grown soft since 
 then ; she gave in to custom so far as to let her 
 vintage begin in the middle of October, and the 
 wine was none the better for it. A day sooner 
 it should not begin if all the armies in France 
 were going to march over her vineyards. More- 
 over, for the benefit of such metayers as had 
 grapes of their own, over which she had no 
 control, she very frankly expressed her opinion 
 that those who had not the courage and good 
 faith to await in patience the proper seasons, but 
 tried to snatch gifts from the hand of God before 
 His own time came for bestowing them, were 
 likely to surfer for their greediness. 
 
 We children remembered to have heard Pierre 
 say almost the same words about Georges' and 
 Trma's love affair, and hearing Grand'mere say 
 them now, we hoped the more for Irma. Soeur
 
 196 UECTOR. 
 
 Amelia did not take the same view as Grand'- 
 mere of the soldiers. It was the duty of every- 
 one, she said, to receive them properly ; but she 
 used to lament in mysterious half-sentences the 
 terrible misfortunes which the soldiers would 
 bring upon the country, the wickedness they 
 would introduce, the ruin and misery they would 
 leave behind, till, one day, when we were all 
 standing at the door of the kitchen after lessons, 
 and she had been angering Hector and me by 
 talking as though soldiers were, one and all, 
 messengers of Satan, Hector said in his quiet 
 matter-of-fact way : 
 
 " I suppose you haven't ever been in love with 
 a soldier, have you, ma Sceur ? " 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed Sceui 
 Amelie ; "what questions to come into a child's 
 mind. Positively he is possessed. I, a sister of 
 charity, to But it is frightful ! Did any- 
 one ever hear such things spoken of ? " 
 
 She took out her handkerchief and wiped her 
 face, and Grand'mere said : 
 
 " There, there, ma Sceur ! the child meant no 
 harm; he doesn't understand these'things." 
 
 Hector went stolidly on : 
 
 " Because, if you had ever been in love with 
 a soldier, you'd understand much better about
 
 HECTOR. 197 
 
 them being good, and you'd be longing for them 
 to come too, and turning red, like other people, 
 when you heard them spoken of, and looking so 
 awful pretty. Have you ever been in love with 
 anyone ? " 
 
 This last question was shot out' suddenly but 
 deliberately, and the effect upon Soeur Amelie 
 was so dreadful, that, in spite of my anger 
 against her, I could hardly forgive Hector for 
 the irresistible chuckle of laughter which burst 
 from him. 
 
 She literally gasped for breath, and, with both 
 hands up before her withered face, she cried out, 
 " Oh ! oh ! " in a voice which did not sound to 
 me like hers at all, but like the voice of someone 
 who had been badly hurt. The next instant she 
 was all herself, shocked and astonished, redden- 
 ing, gesticulating, flapping the wings of her 
 cornette, as she declared that that child was a 
 " demon, a true little demon ; " but she looked 
 so miserably uncomfortable, that Grand'mere 
 said : 
 
 " It is all one, ma Soeur. There is nothing to 
 agitate yourself about if in the past you have 
 had your experience. There are many things 
 in life, and, with the rest, a little love comes in 
 tjrn to all of us. Go along out of doors now, 
 children, and talk no more stupidities.
 
 ig8 HECTOR. 
 
 Hector had another burst of chuckling as we 
 went down the lane. 
 
 " I don't see anything so amusing," I said, 
 rather indignantly, " I think you hurt her." 
 
 When he saw I wasn't amused he stopped 
 laughing, and said, "Why shouldn't I? It 
 served her right for saying nasty things. Girls 
 always think that they may hurt as much as they 
 like, and that it is a great shame if anyone hurts 
 them back again." 
 
 Sceur Amelie never abused the soldiers again 
 in Hector's presence, but I am sure she disliked 
 him all the more from that time. He said he 
 thought people were silly who minded about 
 being disliked when they were able to do the 
 things they really wanted to do. It was like 
 wanting to buy without paying the money. I 
 understand better now what he meant, but I 
 suppose I always was silly, for I minded very 
 much not only about being disliked myself, but 
 about him being disliked also. 
 
 That same day Hector said he wanted to see 
 Baptiste's mill at work, and we went down im- 
 mediately after dinner through the woods. The 
 river wound past Lagrace's metairie, and as we 
 went we saw Lagrace and his family in the vine- 
 yard cutting grapes. Hector asked Irma why 
 she did it.
 
 HECTOR. 199 
 
 " I obey my father," she said, sadly, " We 
 are very poor, and he is afraid because of the 
 soldiers." 
 
 The me'tairie did look poor with its weather- 
 stained walls and broken shutters, and patched 
 clothes hanging out to dry upon a line. We 
 were struck by the contrast between it and the 
 mill, for the miller's land came next after La- 
 grace's on the river bank. The wheel was not 
 at work when we reached the mill, and the 
 stream spread out into a clear full pond under 
 the chestnut trees above the dam. The trees 
 were laden with fruit that year, the woods were 
 already turning gold, and the red-tiled mill, 
 which was reflected with them in the clear still 
 water, seemed a rich and comfortable place to 
 live in. 
 
 Baptiste looked like a rich and comfortable 
 miller, too, when we got round to the front f his 
 house and saw him in his dining-room. It was a 
 festival day apparently at the mjll, for at ordi- 
 nary times Baptiste dined in the kitchen, and he 
 was not alone. We saw through the vine-covered 
 frame of the open window the round table set in 
 the middle of the low dining-room with its 
 dessert and wine bottles. The miller, with his 
 back to the big side-board, leaning forward on
 
 200 HECTOR. 
 
 the table smoking a cigarette, and leisurely stir- 
 ring his cup of coffee, while on one side of him 
 sat Marie Monthez, and on the other a nice- 
 looking woman, whom we instantly guessed to 
 be her mother. The smoke from his cigarette 
 curled over their heads ; they looked very much 
 at their ease. In the kitchen, on the other side 
 of the passage, Marie Anna was clattering the 
 dishes, in a way which with Madelon at home 
 meant temper. 
 
 We did not wish to disturb the miller, so we 
 went round to the back and asked Marie Anna 
 if he were going to work the mill that day. She 
 didn't know anything about it, she said, nor 
 about him either, it seemed. She used to be of 
 opinion that he had inherited a little common- 
 sense from his parents, but since he had taken 
 to giving dinner parties in the middle of the 
 week, and to behaving like a young fool of 
 twenty, she found that she had been mistaken. 
 For her part she had had enough of it, and if 
 things were to be conducted like this, tne sooner 
 she went home to her son the better. 
 
 She said all this as much to her dishes as to 
 us, and IJector, who was anxious to find out 
 about the mill, thought he would pacify her, I 
 Suppose, by saying :
 
 HECTOR. 201 
 
 " Oh, well, when the miller is married you will 
 be able to go home to your son quite comforta- 
 bly." But his remark had anything but a 
 pacifying effect. Marie Anna dashed a plate 
 into the plate-rack. 
 
 " When the miller is married ! " she exclaimed, 
 contemptuously. " He's not married yet, and 
 won't be at Martinmas if he doesn't change his 
 tactics, great fool. Not knowing what he wants. 
 Ah ! if his mother was here she'd soon bring him 
 to reason. Talk to me of men ! they are all the 
 same. From the day of their birth to the day 
 of their death they must have women to arrange 
 their affairs. First we must feed them, and then 
 we must serve them, then we must nurse them, 
 and in the end they generally have the ingrati- 
 tude to die first, and to leave us with a coffin to 
 contemplate, asking ourselves if it was all worth 
 while. I know them, allez ; I've seen them all 
 round." 
 
 Marie Monthez opened the door of the dining- 
 room opposite, and came into the kitchen as the 
 last words were being uttered. 
 
 " What do you say, foster-mother ? " she asked 
 in Gascon. And we saw at once that whoever 
 Marie Anna was angry with, it was not with 
 Marie Monthez.
 
 202 HECTOR. 
 
 " I say," she replied, with as near an approach 
 to good-humor as she often displayed, " that 
 those women who are not yet bothered with a 
 man to look after, would do very well to keep 
 their independence. If only they knew what it 
 is, they wouldn't be in a hurry to slip on their 
 wedding rings. Some men may have qualities, 
 but the foundation of them all is the same, 
 egoism, egoism, always egoism. After that, 
 what's the good of talking? I've talked for 
 forty years, and I've never prevented a mar- 
 riage that I know of." 
 
 Marie Monthez laughed. 
 
 " Shall I tell you why ? " she asked ; " it is 
 because you speak to human nature, and you 
 forget one half of it. If men like to receive, 
 women like also to give, and everything arranges 
 itself quite simply." 
 
 " Women like you, I daresay," grumbled 
 Marie Anna. " Not women like me. I'd like 
 to take them by the hair and knock their heads 
 together, when I see them imbecile and self-glo- 
 rious as they are. There, don't speak of them ! 
 I've lived all my life with a man under my nose, 
 till I have finished by having a horror of the 
 whole lot! What do they want now in the 
 dining-room ? "
 
 HECTOR. 203 
 
 " They don't want anything," said Marie 
 Monthez. " But we have sat there long enough, 
 and I came out to have a chat with you. First 
 give me the keys, and I will go and fetch the 
 fine shirts I was mending the last time." 
 
 "Go! go! It is not I who would mend them 
 in your place," muttered Marie Anna as Marie 
 Monthez mounted the stairs, swinging the bunch 
 of keys on her forefinger as she went. 
 
 We had been waiting all this time near the 
 open door of the yard, not quite knowing wheth- 
 er to go or stay ; but Marie Anna did not pay 
 the smallest attention to us. She set a plate 
 for herself on the end of the kitchen table, and 
 having taken a large loaf of bread from the cup- 
 board, and a little red earthen pot from the fire, 
 she proceeded to eat her soup with the utmost 
 unconcern. I began to feel that our attempt to 
 see the mill was a failure, and I glanced at 
 Hector to see whether he thought of retiring, 
 but he had pulled his beloved Aviceptologie 
 from his pocket, and was already seated on the 
 doorstep, reading with an unconcern quite equal 
 to that with which Mane Anna was eating her 
 dinner. 
 
 It was rather uncomfortable to sit there wait- 
 ing between them, and I was wishing that Marie
 
 204 HECTOR. 
 
 Monthez would come down again, when the in- 
 ner door of the kitchen opened and the miller 
 appeared looking very jovial and full of dinner. 
 
 " Marie Anna," he said, " I would like, that is, 
 we would like a little glass of brandy after our 
 coffee." 
 
 Marie Anna paid no attention. She did not 
 seem to see him or hear him till he had repeated 
 his request. Then she lifted her head from her 
 soup-plate and remarked sharply that she should 
 have thought two bottles of good wine was 
 enough expense to make for dinner on a work- 
 ing day. 
 
 " I told you, Marie Anna, that I had good 
 reasons for giving this dinner," he urged, with 
 the manner of one who wishes to give no 
 offence. And since brandy is asked for, you 
 would not have me refuse it ? " 
 
 " Madame Monthez has asked for brandy ? " 
 
 " I don't say Madame Monthez asked for it," 
 he answered, reddening like a schoolboy under 
 her sharp eyes. " But after all, the brandy 
 is mine ; I have a right to drink it if I please." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, you will do what you please ! 
 You may use your brandy to wash the clothes 
 with, if you like, and it will be all one to me. 
 Are your affairs my affairs? Not at all ! I shall
 
 HECTOR. 205 
 
 soon have left you to throw your money out of 
 the windows at your pleasure. And I promise 
 you that then it won't be only by these windows 
 it will go," she nodded towards the front of the 
 house, "but by those." 
 
 The miller followed her hand with his eyes as 
 she pointed with an expressive jerk of her thumb 
 to the windows of the back kitchen, and perhaps 
 he saw in his mind all the old women of the 
 neighborhood coming in to rob him when she 
 was no longer there to defend his substance, for 
 he said in a very humble voice : 
 
 " It is true, Marie Anna, it is true. I know 
 that if you were not there they would rob me on 
 all sides. Nevertheless, we have a good store 
 of that '58 brandy in the cellar. It is not often 
 that I open a bottle, and I would like to complete 
 the dinner." 
 
 Marie Anna muttered something in her plate. 
 I did not hear it. He did apparently, for he lost 
 patience, and said, with his red face growing 
 redder : 
 
 " Enfin, Marie Anna, I am the master Tiere, 
 and I have the right to take my ease when I 
 like." 
 
 " Oh yes, you are the master here ! " she 
 answered sarcastically. And as if that state-
 
 206 n EC TOR. 
 
 ment had made an end of the matter, she took 
 up her spoon and applied herself wholly to her 
 soup. 
 
 " You have the keys ? " he asked, after waiting 
 uneasily for a minute. 
 
 "No, I have not." 
 
 " Well ! you will bring the brandy ? " and, 
 glad to escape, he retreated towards the door. 
 
 But at this Marie Anna raised her head indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 "Very certainly I will not bring the brandy !" 
 she exclaimed. "What!" in addition to all my 
 other work, I am to trudge now up and down to 
 the cellar for you. Since when have you become 
 such a fine gentleman that you cannot enter 
 your own cellar ? Ah ! if your parents could 
 see you, they would say truly it was worth while 
 to bring up a son with order and common-sense. 
 Go your own way! Go your own way! There 
 will soon be no cellar for you to enter." 
 
 She rose as she spoke, and proceeded to wash 
 her plate and glass and spoon at the sink. 
 
 "A thousand pests be upon women. How 
 does she expect me to go to the cellar when she 
 won't give me the keys ! " the miller muttered 
 half under his breath. But I don't think Marie 
 Anna heard that, as she had grown a little deaf
 
 ITECTOK. 207 
 
 with increasing age ; and though he abused her 
 he knew, I suppose, that she did not mean to let 
 him have what he wanted, and that he might as 
 well give in soon as late, for aloud he only said : 
 
 " Oh, well, Marie Anna, perhaps you are 
 right. Brandy is not necessary after dinner, 
 and it is probable that Madame Monthez does 
 not care for it. She is very sober in eating and 
 drinking." 
 
 He gave one rueful glance at the cellar-door, 
 and with disappointment spreading on his broad 
 red face, he went away. 
 
 I wondered for a moment if Marie Anna was 
 going to relent and call him back. Far from 
 doing anything of the sort, she remarked to her 
 plates as the door closed after him : 
 
 "Quite the contrary! .Madame Monthez likes 
 a little glass of cognac after her coffee better 
 than most people. But it is not I who will help 
 to soften her for your silly plans. May she keep 
 some common-sense, I ask no more." 
 
 Hector had looked up from his book while 
 this little scene was taking place, and at the 
 sight of Marie Anna with her sharp hooked 
 nose and little withered bare arms, victoriously 
 perched on a stool by the sink, while the big 
 miller slunk shamefaced away, he whispered to
 
 208 HECTOR. 
 
 me that she was like one of the hens at home 
 driving our big dog Marius out of the yard. 
 Marie Monthez came down again while we were 
 both laughing. She asked what was amusing 
 us, and Hector, with the perfect frankness and 
 simplicity he always showed towards people 
 whom he liked, told her at once what it was. I 
 was afraid she might be vexed, but his descrip- 
 tion of the scene made her laugh too. 
 
 " Poor M. Baptiste," she said ; " people laugh 
 at him, and Marie Anna illtreats him shamefully, 
 but he is good underneath, and if he fell into 
 good hands, he would astonish everyone by all 
 he would do. It was not amiable of you to 
 refuse him his brandy," she added to Marie 
 Anna, " and if you play him such tricks, it is not 
 astonishing that he should become egoist to 
 defend himself." 
 
 Nevertheless, she did not attempt to get the 
 brandy for him, but settled down quietly to her 
 work, and we children, hoping that without 
 brandy there was more chance of the miRer 
 returning to his work that day, sauntered off to 
 inspect as we could the outside of the mill.
 
 HECTOR. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TT was uninteresting to wander about looking 
 at the outside of a mill which was not at 
 work, and, when Hector had examined the 
 wheel, and climbed on the gate which shut the 
 water off, and looked long enough down the nar- 
 row channel where, when the mill was working, 
 the now quiet water rushed and foamed, we 
 sauntered into the chestnut woods to peer about 
 after our usual fashion. 
 
 The bracken was high under the trees, and 
 here and there I remember a tall rose-colored 
 fox-glove caught the light, and seemed to glow 
 in the green gold haze which the strong after- 
 noon sun spread round us through the woods. 
 There were not many birds, but the squirrels 
 were at work in the branches of the beech and 
 chestnut trees, and we were soon so interested 
 in watching them and in racing along the ground 
 with our heads in the air trying to keep pace 
 with their flying progress through the tree-tops, 
 '4
 
 2io HECTOR. 
 
 that we took very little heed of time, and would 
 have entirely forgotten the mill and the miller, 
 had we not, later in the afternoon, seen the mil- 
 ler walking in the wood. 
 
 He was talking to somebody, and, to our very 
 great surprise, we saw, as we drew nearer, that 
 that somebody was Hector's tramp. Just as we 
 came in sight, the miller gave him a piece of 
 money, and said : 
 
 " And as much more if you succeed in taking 
 it. I will not touch it myself, I don't want it, 
 only there is no harm in trying all means ; 
 and before I pay you, you understand that I 
 must see it." 
 
 " Be easy," said the tramp ; and at that mo- 
 ment, the miller caught sight of us. 
 
 We were staring at him in such a rude, curi- 
 ous way, that I didn't wonder he looked vexed, 
 but he seemed really, as Marie Monthez said, 
 better than people thought him, for he only 
 spoke a little more sharply to the tramp as he 
 bid him be off now, and understand that that 
 was the last money he would get for a long time, 
 and to us he said that he understood we wanted 
 to see the mill at work, and if we liked he would 
 show it to us now he was going in to turn the 
 water on.
 
 HECTOR. 
 
 We had given up hoping to see the mill that 
 afternoon, and this unexpected proposal com- 
 pletely put the tramp out of our minds. We- 
 went back with delight by Baptiste's side, and 
 in the powdery rooms and white floured stair- 
 cases of the mill we forgot even our objections 
 to the miller himself. 
 
 Once the mill was at work, he said, he would 
 have to attend to his business, but he showed us 
 over everything before he turned the water on, 
 and then he took us into a little room above the 
 mill wheel, from the windows of which he told 
 us to watch the rush of the water. It had one 
 window nearly over the wheel, and another from 
 which we could look across the mill-pond up the 
 river. Some children were throwing sticks into 
 a chestnut tree on the right hand shore of the 
 mill-pond ; and we recognized the Baptiste that 
 we knew in the displeasure with which the mii- 
 ler caught sight of them. He forgot for a 
 moment both us and the mill, and exclaimed 
 angrily : 
 
 " What are those children doing there ? 
 They seem to be taking strange liberties with 
 my trees ! " 
 
 They were indeed taking strange liberties, for 
 as stick after stick flew up into- the tree, the
 
 212 HECTOR. 
 
 half-ripe chestnuts pattered down amid the cries 
 of delight from the children, and as each bright 
 'splash announced a bunch of nuts in the water, 
 there was a rush to the edge of the pond and an 
 outstretching of hands and sticks to save it, a 
 holding on of some to the pinafores of others, 
 and shouts of triumph over every rescue. It 
 was evident that no thought of concealment 
 spoilt the fun, and the joyous excitement was so 
 infectious that Hector looked up with sparkling 
 eyes, expecting the miller himself to sympathise 
 when five little blue-pinafored figures formed 
 themselves into a chain, and five little round 
 faces glowed with interest to see the foremost 
 pair of arms stretched to their furthest in the 
 endeavor to fish up a fine bunch of prickly husks 
 which the current was carrying slowly and 
 surely out of reach. The miller was not to be 
 touched with sympathy of that kind. 
 
 " They are the little Lagraces," he said, in the 
 worried tone of one who announces a misfor- 
 tune. " It is Marie Anna who will soap their 
 heads if she catches them." 
 
 He left us as he spoke, but we were too much 
 interested in the chestnut-gathering to care for 
 the moment about seeing the mill-wheel turn. 
 The bunch of prickly husks could not be saved.
 
 HECTOR. 213 
 
 It was abandoned to the river, but with renewed 
 energy a shower of sticks was flung again into 
 the chestnut-tree. Down came the nuts on 
 every side, the riper ones bursting as they fell, 
 and making with their snow-white linings bright 
 points of light upon the ground. The children 
 ran hither and thither to gather the treasure, 
 and Hector and I were laughing to see them, 
 almost as merrily as they laughed, when a great 
 shower of nuts fell into the water. There was 
 a leaping of bright drops in the sun, a widening 
 of glassy circles on the water, a burst of joyous 
 shouts from the children, a confused rush to the 
 riverside, then suddenly a heavy plash, and ail 
 the mixed sounds joined in one loud cry of fear 
 and grief. 
 
 I scarcely saw what had happened. One of 
 the smallest had fallen in. The others, in a 
 miserable group, were stretching vainly the lit- 
 tle hands and sticks which a moment before 
 had proved too short to secure the floating 
 chestnuts. 
 
 " Oh, and the water's deep," I cried, " the 
 water's deep." 
 
 Hector was already standing on the window- 
 sill, his pinafore and coat thrown off. 
 
 " Tell them not to turn on the water," he said.
 
 214 HECTOR. 
 
 And before I knew what he was going to do, 
 there was another splash on our side of the pond. 
 I thought Hector too would die ; the mill seemed 
 to rock with me, the sky and the river and the 
 trees all mixed and whirled before my eyes. 
 The next instant his head came up above the 
 water. I saw the sunlight on his face as he 
 struck out with steady strokes for the opposite 
 shore. I understood that he knew how to swim, 
 and I never shall forget the feeling of faith I 
 had suddenly in his strength. 
 
 I shouted with all my force across the pond to 
 the other children. 
 
 " Do not be afraid. He will save her." Then, 
 without a moment's delay, I ran to stop, as he 
 had bid me, the turning on of the water. The 
 miller had shown us on the way up the place 
 where he stood to turn the water on. I made 
 myself remember it as I ran down the little 
 stairs, and I reached the spot just in time to put 
 my hand on the arm of the miller's man, who 
 was going to work. 
 
 I told him what had happened. I asked where 
 the miller was. He said the miller had just 
 gone up round the pond. Then he seized a rope 
 that was lying at hand, and we both ran out 
 over the little bridge, and as fast as we could go 
 in the direction of the chestnut tree.
 
 HECTOR. 215 
 
 But even to run as we did through the mill 
 garden and along the bank took a long time. 
 Before we reached the chestnut tree we were no 
 longer needed, for as we mounted the bit of 
 rising ground which led to it, we saw Hector 
 already on the bank sturdily running in the 
 direction of the mill, the water pouring in little 
 streams from his shirt and trousers, but a drip- 
 ping child in his arms, and the group of brothers 
 and sisters, silent and awe -stricken, trotting 
 after him. It was little Jeanne Lagrace whom 
 he had saved. She was insensible, and I think 
 that even then he was not sure that he had saved 
 her, for he took no notice of anything, and did 
 not seem to see us or to hear our voices as he 
 hurried on towards the house with his white 
 face set strong and firm like a man's. 
 
 We had not seen the miller. He met us 
 almost at the threshold. 
 
 "What is this?" he cried; "what is this? 
 How wet you are ! " And then, filling up the 
 doorway with his burly form, " Don't go in, you 
 will make a mess, and Marie Anna will be 
 furious." 
 
 We could not pass him, and Hector spoke for 
 the first time : 
 
 " Bother Marie Anna, and you too. Stand 
 aside ! "
 
 216 HECTOh. 
 
 The order was given with such decision that 
 Baptiste did stand aside, and reddening and pro- 
 testing followed us through the dining-room, as 
 Hector walked on without hesitation into the 
 guest-chamber of the mill. There on the best 
 bed in the middle of the best coverlet he laid the 
 wet unconscious child, and while the miller tried 
 in vain to defend himself from the sarcasms of 
 Marie Anna, who came from the kitchen at the 
 noise, Hector appealed to Marie Monthez and 
 her mother to do what should be done. They 
 quickly undressed little Jeanne, and though 
 Marie Anna could not resist the temptation of 
 scolding the miller, all the time she too was 
 active in help. The brandy which had been 
 refused to Baptiste was produced in a moment, 
 hot blankets were made ready, and before long 
 little Jeanne, warm and comfortable in bed, 
 opened her eyes, and on seeing so many strange 
 faces began to cry. 
 
 Hector had stood silent and watchful all this 
 time at the bottom of the bed, having pulled off 
 his wet stockings, and pooh-poohed the notion 
 of changing anything else. Now he said : 
 
 "Shall I fetch Irma?" 
 
 It was the most natural thing to do, but his 
 words seemed to embarrass everybody. The
 
 HECTOR. 2i; 
 
 miller and Madame Monthez looked uncomfort- 
 able ; Marie Anna lifted up her head and sniffed 
 audibly. 
 
 It was Marie Monthez who said, as she raised 
 herself from the pillow where she had bent to 
 comfort Jeanne : 
 
 " Yes, fetch Irma. She will soon console the 
 little one." And in the very quiet way she said 
 it and bent again over the child, I could see 
 that there was something strange. 
 
 Hector was off like a swallow with two of the 
 little Lagraces at his heels. Marie Anna 
 wanted to turn out the other two also, but 
 Marie Monthez again interfered : 
 
 " No, let them stay, Marie Anna ; they are 
 doing no harm." 
 
 " And my floor that I washed yesterday," 
 grumbled Marie Anna; "it might be a maize 
 field. Look at the dirt ; and water everywhere ! " 
 
 But Marie Monthez did not seem to care. 
 She only asked Marie Anna to go and make 
 some broth for Jeanne. 
 
 Marie Anna went muttering to the kitchen, 
 and if the broth was good in proportion to the 
 noise she made with the pots while she prepared 
 it, it must have been very good indeed. The 
 house rang to the sounding blows of iron
 
 2i5 HECTOR. 
 
 kettles on the kitchen hearth, for in our room 
 there was absolute silence. Madame Monthez, 
 having put the room tidy, sat knitting in the 
 armchair ; the miller stood and looked out of 
 the window with the light shining through his 
 great ears, so that they glowed like poppies om 
 either side of his head. Marie Monthez bent 
 down again till her cheek touched little Jeanne's 
 upon the pillow. 
 
 The grown-up people being so qiiiet, we 
 children did not dare to move, and the time 
 seemed very long to me before a sound of 
 footsteps in the passage announced Hector's 
 return. The miller turned round from the 
 window, and the next moment Irma was on the 
 threshold of the bedroom. 
 
 She stood for one moment, flushed, hesita- 
 ting, looking, I thought, as though she did not 
 like to come. The next, little Jeanne had seen 
 her, and held out her arms, and Irma was at the 
 bedside hugging the child tight and close to her 
 breast. 
 
 "Poor little thing," she murmured, "you were 
 terribly frightened. It is all one, I love you 
 well, and now you are safe, safe in Irma's 
 arms." 
 
 " It doesn't hurt now," little Jeanne said, 
 patting Irma's cheeks contentedly, but as the
 
 HECTOE. 219 
 
 ciasp of Irma's arms was loosened, she clung to 
 her imploring, " You won't go away. Take me 
 home, take me home, too ; I don't want to stay 
 here." 
 
 Tears and sobs came again. It seemed that 
 the worst part of the fright to the little shy 
 creature was the finding herself suddenly in a 
 strange room, full of strange people, and Irma, 
 as she comforted her, made her excuses. 
 
 " You must forgive her," she said, looking for 
 the first time at the miller and Madame Monthez. 
 " She is too young to understand that she owes 
 you gratitude. I thank you very much for all 
 you have done. If my father were here, he 
 would thank you better." She held herself 
 straight and tall while she spoke, and kept the 
 child clasped close against her. I could not 
 think what was the matter, but somehow she did 
 not look to me like the Irma who came to fetch 
 the milk every day. 
 
 " It is a pleasure to me to serve you with my 
 house," the miller said ; and when I remem- 
 bered that he had wanted to keep us out, and 
 that he hadn't done anything at all for little 
 Jeanne, I thought that he need not have been 
 in such a hurry to take her thanks for himself. 
 " Also, it will be a pleasure to me to serve you 
 now if I can do anything for you."
 
 220 HECTOR. 
 
 " Thank you, M. Baptiste, I need nothing." 
 
 The miller was gazing at Irma stupid and 
 open-mouthed. She had run down with Hector 
 just as she was, in her short brown working 
 dress, with the sleeves rolled up to the shoulders. 
 The dress was a little open at the throat on 
 account of the heat, and under the gold colored 
 handkerchief which she wore twisted round her 
 head, her hair had slipped in dark coils upon her 
 neck. Jeanne had nothing on at all but one 
 very small white garment, and, as Irma stood 
 there by the dull green hangings of the bed 
 with the child in her arms, she made me think 
 suddenly of a picture that hangs over the altar 
 in the lady chapel at Cassagne. I don't know if 
 the miller felt the same strange sort of respect 
 for her that I felt ; Marie Monthez thought her 
 beautiful I am sure, for she sat looking at her 
 steadily for a long time before she rose from her 
 seat in the shadow of the curtain and said, in 
 her sweet, quiet voice : 
 
 " You would like to take her away ; I will go 
 and see if her clothes are dry." 
 
 There seemed nothing in that to agitate Irma, 
 but her color suddenly came and went. She 
 seemed to have difficulty in forcing herself to 
 speak, and before she had uttered a husky 
 "Thank you," Marie Monthez had left the room.
 
 HECTOR. 221 
 
 The clothes took a longer time to fetch than 
 the short journey to the kitchen made at all 
 necessary, but Marie Monthez came back pres- 
 ently with the little bundle over her arm. 
 
 " Shall I help you ? " she said to Irma ; and 
 they dressed little Jeanne between them, neither 
 of them speaking, but their hands crossing and 
 touching sometimes as they met at the fastening 
 of the tiny garments. 
 
 As they occupied themselves so, it seemed to 
 me that the strange look went from Irma's face, 
 and she became more like her everyday self. 
 
 Madame Monthez went out of the room. 
 
 The miller began somewhat noisily to open 
 and shut the lattice window which did not quite 
 fit its frame, and under cover of the slight noise, 
 Marie Monthez bent towards Irma and said : 
 
 "Will you trust me? I would help you if I 
 could." 
 
 Irma raised her eyes to Marie Monthez's face, 
 and replied, with a forlorn note in her voice 
 which sounded all the sadder because it was so 
 quiet : 
 
 " I dare not trust anyone. It seems to me 
 that all the world is against me now." 
 
 Jeanne's dressing was finished, and she turned 
 and put her arms round Irma's neck, whispering: 
 
 " Let us go home."
 
 222 HECTOR. 
 
 " The children at least love you tenderly," 
 Marie Monthez said. 
 
 * "Ah, yes! and that is the worst. Without 
 that I should have strength." 
 
 The miller ceased fidgeting with the window, 
 and came forward. 
 
 Irma took Jeanne in her arms, thanked him 
 briefly once more for his hospitality, wished 
 good-day to Marie and Madame Monthez, and, 
 with the four little brothers clinging to her 
 skirts, passed out into the sunshine. We stood 
 and watched her till a turn in the path hid her 
 from our view. Ten minutes after we were 
 running home, and, as we passed the chestnut 
 tree, we saw the miller with a broom in his hand 
 sweeping chestnuts and leaves and branches all 
 into the river, while he cast, from time to time, a 
 fearful glance towards the house. 
 
 "He!" he called to us; "You saw Marie 
 Anna as you left the house." 
 
 " Yes," Hector answered, " she seemed to be 
 looking for you." 
 
 The miller re-applied himself with vigorous 
 strokes to his sweeping. 
 
 " Well, let her come ; all will be in order here 
 before she arrives. She will find nothing to 
 say."
 
 HECTOR. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 the following Monday the maire came 
 out to Salaret to look at our accommo- 
 dation, and it was decided that we were to have 
 thirty-five soldiers and three officers. It was 
 settled, too, to our unbounded delight, that we 
 were to have chasseurs-a-pied whenever they 
 came. 
 
 It was still possible that Georges might not 
 come with his regiment, and we remembered 
 well that he had promised in that case to write 
 to his uncle Pierre, who was to let Irma know. 
 We, therefore, watched the daily postman with 
 the greatest interest. 
 
 One day, as we were standing in the porch, 
 we saw the postman bring a letter for Pierre, 
 and put it down as usual on the bench outside 
 the forge, and our hearts sank into our shoes, 
 but when we raced down to Pierre and uncere- 
 moniously asked him if he had had news from 
 Georges, he made us happy again by the bright-
 
 224 HECTOR. 
 
 ness of his " Not a word," and after this we 
 had no more scares. The postman never even 
 stopped again at the forge ; and between the 
 thought of Irma's happiness in seeing Georges, 
 and our own delight at the prospect of the 
 soldiers, we felt ourselves to be almost bursting 
 with happiness as the first day of the occupation 
 drew near. 
 
 The first real sign we saw of the coming of 
 the soldiers was the arrival of their bread. 
 Hector and I saw it pass one day in open 
 wagon-loads along the road to Cassagne. The 
 afternoon happened to be rainy, I remember, 
 and we thought how nasty the bread would be 
 before the soldiers got it; but the quantity of it 
 astounded us ; it helped us to realize what 
 numbers of men were coming, and we had so 
 much to do with our own preparations that, in 
 spite of the indignation expressed by Esque- 
 besse and Pierre at the sight of so much good 
 food spoiled, we had no time left to criticise the 
 preparations of the government. 
 
 Every spare bed in the house was needed for 
 the officers, and Grand'mere had decided to put 
 her soldiers into the big coach-house and the 
 laundry adjoining it ; in addition, therefore, to 
 our other pleasures, we children had all tha
 
 HECTOR. 225 
 
 delight of seeing the household turned upside 
 down, and we worked with a will wherever we 
 were allowed to show ourselves. The carriage 
 
 o 
 
 had to be taken out of the coach-house and put 
 for shelter under the cart-shed, so had the great 
 coach which had stood there, I believe, since 
 the time of Grand'mere's grandfather, and it was 
 no trifle to move. I see Hector still in his 
 shirt sleeves, his face flushed with unwonted 
 exertion, running under Jean's orders from 
 wheel to wheel and shoving with all his might, 
 while the heavy old vehicle rocked on its straps. 
 
 Grand'mere all the time was everywhere, 
 looking after Madelon, looking after us, and 
 seeing also to the farm. Her wooden shoes 
 clattered as she came and went, and whenever 
 we wanted an order or direction, she was there 
 with her mouth set firm and her little eyes 
 bright and soft. 
 
 "That's it, my children. Work well!" she 
 said from time to time. " Poor fellows, they will 
 be tired when they arrive here, and since they 
 fight for us it is but just we should help them a 
 little." 
 
 When we had finished all she had told us to 
 do, she came herself and drove nails into the 
 walls, and hung up half-a-dozen clean coarse
 
 226 I1ECTOE. 
 
 towels, and then when all was ready in the 
 house and out, and the yard was full of the 
 delicious fragrance of the coffee Madelon was 
 roasting for the officers on the kitchen doorstep, 
 Grand'mere took her big bunch of keys from 
 her belt, and bid us go down with her to the 
 cellar to carry up the wine for the soldiers. 
 
 " Eighteen bottles ! " Madelon counted, as we 
 made our last journey across the yard. " Eigh- 
 teen bottles a day every day the soldiers are 
 here, without counting the cognac for the officers. 
 That'll make a fine hole in the cellar." 
 
 Grand'mere was following us, and heard what 
 Madelon said. 
 
 She paused opposite the open gateway and 
 pointed to the vineyards, which lay stretched 
 out golden in the evening sun. 
 
 " The good God does not count the grapes he 
 gives us," she said, " so what need have you, 
 Madelon, to count the wine we give the soldiers." 
 
 It was not only in our house. All over the 
 country there was preparation and bustle and 
 merriment, as we learnt from Pierre and Esque- 
 besse and Dr. Charles ; and next day the soldiers 
 came. Hector and I knew that they were to 
 be marched into Ste. Marie les Bains, about two 
 kilometres off, and there dismissed to find their
 
 HECTOR. 227 
 
 lodgings as they could, but no hour had been 
 named for their arrival. We had been expecting 
 them all day, and from early morning we had 
 spent every spare moment we could get on the 
 mound beneath the cross, looking eagerly along 
 the road in the direction of Ste. Marie. Sosur 
 Amelie spoke to us seriously on the folly of 
 allowing our minds to be distracted by worldly 
 excitement, but we paid no attention, and found 
 it impossible to conceal our'delight even from 
 her. 
 
 But we strained our eyes in vain along the 
 hot white road till somewhere near five o'clock, 
 when at last a cloud of dust appeared on the top 
 of the nearest rising. The low rays of the 
 afternoon sun made the dust seem like a golden 
 halo, and through the gold the bright blades of 
 bayonets flashed in sparkling points. That was- 
 all we could see at first, for the dust was so thick 
 we could not make out either men or uniforms, 
 but as they came nearer we could see a number 
 of infantry surrounding a couple of country 
 wagons, which the drivers had good-naturedly 
 put at the disposal of the tired soldiers. There 
 were no chasseurs-a-pied, only common soldiers 
 of the line, with their long blue coats buttoned 
 up at the corners, their loose red trousers
 
 228 HECTOR. 
 
 covered with dust, and their bodies bent slightly 
 forward under the heavy loads they bore. They 
 were not the grand bearded men we had pictured 
 to ourselves, with bronzed foreheads, marching 
 gloriously as if to conquer the world. Most of 
 them were young like Georges, their faces were 
 white and dragged and stained as with dirt and 
 gunpowder, their lips were parched and swollen. 
 Instead of the joy and triumph we had expected, 
 Hector and I felt a shock of pity. The cross 
 roads by which we stood were the first that had 
 been passed on the road from Ste. Marie, so the 
 soldiers were in considerable numbers as they 
 had left the village, but they were not moving in 
 any regular order, and when they saw people 
 gathered together at the cross, there was a 
 hoarse demand as if from one throat for the way 
 to the nearest spring. Many of them thrust out 
 at the same time bits of white paper which con- 
 tained their lodging orders. But no one seemed 
 to think of his quarters. Water, water was all 
 they wished for. 
 
 "Ah, unfortunates!" cried a sympathetic 
 woman near us ; " you, you look half starved ! " 
 
 " We are dying of thirst," we heard a soldier 
 say. " We have marched forty kilometres in 
 the sun and the dust to-day, and we have had
 
 HECTOR. 229 
 
 nothing yet to eat except the dry bread we had 
 in our pockets." 
 
 I shall never forget the murmur of pity which 
 rose around them. It seemed such a gentle 
 sound to come from the rough peasant throats, 
 and from that moment, instead of any more 
 doubt or fear, everyone seemed only anxious to 
 get his soldiers and to comfort them. 
 
 " This way ! this way ! " we heard on all sides 
 as the billeting papers were made out. " You 
 are for me. A little courage, it is not far, and 
 there is good wine in the cellar." 
 
 And so they went away in groups down the 
 cross roads, the soldiers limping and good- 
 humored, the peasants, both men and women, 
 carrying their knapsacks and carbines. 
 
 Soldiers were arriving every minute, and 
 peasants also as the news spread came running 
 from the fields, till^ there was quite a concourse 
 at the cross roads. Presently in the midst of 
 the crowd we heard the name, " Loustanoff ! " 
 " Loustanoff ! " reiterated once or twice, and 
 found to our delight that our soldiers had come 
 at last. They were not chasseurs-a-pied that 
 first day, only the same thirsty, dirty, footsore 
 men of the line, and it was now our turn to call 
 with anxiety, ' This way ! this way ! The house
 
 230 HECTOR. 
 
 is quite close. You see just there." Jean was 
 also in the crowd. We had no need to wait till 
 all our thirty-five were gathered, but hurried 
 up the lane with the first four or eight who 
 happened to be at hand, and the others followed 
 in a straggling stream. Our officers had come 
 by a different road, for they were already at the 
 house ; Grand'mere was talking to two under 
 the porch as we arrived ; but she left them 
 immediately and came forward to meet us. 
 
 " You are very welcome, my poor fellows," 
 she said to the soldiers. " But, mon Dieu, how 
 tired you look. Come this way ; you will find 
 something to refresh you here." 
 
 She led the way into the yard while she spoke, 
 and as she pointed to the open doors of the 
 laundry and coach-house, through which the 
 afternoon sun shone in upon the clean white- 
 washed walls and piles of fresh yellow straw, 
 and the table with its burden of wine bottles 
 standing in the centre of each room, there was 
 a rush on the part of the soldiers to their 
 quarters. But they did not first touch the wine; 
 they began to throw off their knapsacks and 
 belts. It was Grand'mere who took up the first 
 bottle and called on the man nearest to her to 
 hold out his cup.
 
 HECTOR. 231 
 
 " To your health, madame," he said, as he 
 raised it to his lips. 
 
 " To your health, my good soldiers," Grand'- 
 mere replied; "drink all of you, now drink; 
 there is half a bottle for each man ; only leave 
 their share for the comrades who have yet to 
 come." 
 
 The tables were in an instant surrounded by 
 men who drank as though it were new life they 
 had been given. Grand'mere looked on with a 
 softened countenance. 
 
 " Ah ! poor fellows, poor fellows ! " she said ; 
 " they needed that. C'est gal. They shall feel 
 better before they leave us to-morrow. Now," 
 she added aloud, " there is the pump, and here 
 are towels ; you have only to wash yourselves 
 and to take off your big boots, and you will find 
 your soup ready for you in the kitchen." 
 
 I went indoors to help Madelon to set the 
 kitchen table, and, in a few minutes, the men 
 came in, each with a bit of bread in his hand, 
 and sat down round the tables we had prepared, 
 to enjoy their big platefuls of steaming soup. 
 
 " Ah ! " they said, as they stretched their tired 
 legs, " if all campaigning were like this, the 
 trade of war would be run after." 
 
 Hector and I waited upon them, but they
 
 232 HECTOR. 
 
 would not give us trouble enough. They 
 chatted and laughed good-humoredly with us 
 while they ate, but they did not take long 
 over their supper ; and when they had finished 
 we heard a word of command. They all stood 
 up, and almost before we knew what they were 
 going to do, the tables were cleared and washed, 
 the plates they had used were in a tub of water, 
 the kitchen floor was swept. The promptitude 
 of their movements pleased Madelon. " That is 
 what one calls work," she said ; and from that 
 day her adherence to the cause of the soldiers 
 was complete. 
 
 Grand'mere also was pleased. " One sees," 
 she said, " that they do not wish to abuse our 
 hospitality. It is good that, it is very good." 
 And while some of the soldiers started again for 
 Ste. Marie les Bains to fetch the rations, and 
 the others were busy in the yard cleaning their 
 boots and accoutrements, she sent us down with 
 Jean into the vineyard to bring up two market 
 baskets full of grapes. 
 
 " There ! " she said to the soldiers when we 
 had brought them up. " As soon as you have 
 finished your work, you will carry your tables 
 into the garden, and you will refresh yourselves 
 with eating these grapes and smoking your 
 pipes at your ease."
 
 HECTOTi. 233 
 
 Hector and I had no eggs for supper that 
 night, for every egg in the house had gone into 
 omelettes for the soldiers ; and Madelon was too 
 tired to make us anything nice instead. But I 
 don't think we either of us cared or knew 
 whether we had anything at all. 
 
 It was a warm and lovely evening, for we 
 were then in the middle of St. Martin's summer; 
 the dining-room windows were wide open, and 
 before supper was over a corporal sent in to 
 inquire whether Madame would have any objec- 
 tion to the men singing a little in the garden. 
 Grand'mre said it would be a pleasure to her to 
 hear them sing, and it was indeed a pleasure to 
 all of us, such as we had not had for a long 
 time. I think they must have sung all their 
 best songs as a sort of return for our hospitality. 
 Some of the men had fine voices, and they took 
 the solos and duets and trios, while all together- 
 swelled the choruses. The dust of the day did 
 not seem to have choked their throats, for their 
 notes rose so clear and strong on the still even- 
 ing air, that I remember thinking, as I sat on a 
 stool by Grand'mere's chair and listened without 
 seeing anyone, how it was like a choir of angels 
 singing out in the darkness. They sang in all 
 strains, gayly, sadly, gloriously. Grand'mre
 
 234 HECTOR. 
 
 had tears in her eyes constantly during the 
 evening. 
 
 "And that is how they go to fight," she said 
 from time to time. " They are fine fellows ! 
 they are fine fellows." 
 
 I do not know how late they continued to 
 sing. At half-past eight Grand'mere sent us to 
 bed, and I was so tired with the excitement of 
 the day, that five minutes after my head touched 
 the pillow I fell asleep to dream of soldiers, with 
 "Mourir pour la patrie" still ringing in my ears.
 
 HECTOR. 235 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 T^ARLY as. we were up on the following 
 morning our soldiers were already gone ; 
 but others came that afternoon in their place, 
 and for th'e next three or four days the country 
 swarmed with troops. Only children could fully 
 understand the delight that it was to Hector 
 and me. I have found out since I have been 
 grown up, that grown-up people can hardly ever 
 give themselves entirely to one enjoyment as we 
 did without feeling that it is wrong. We had 
 no pangs of conscience ; and except for our very 
 short bit of lessons we did nothing but enjoy 
 ourselves all day long. 
 
 During these three or four days one of La- 
 grace's oxen fell sick, and Irma did not come 
 herself for the milk, as she was wanted at home 
 to look after it. We had therefore no opportu- 
 nity of finding out from her when she expected 
 Georges, but in the meantime, secure in the 
 maire's promise that we should have chasseurs
 
 236 II EC TOE. 
 
 quartered upon us when they came, we gave our- 
 selves up to the pleasure of entertaining other 
 soldiers. 
 
 Madelon had to be up every morning at three 
 o'clock in order to have the officers' coffee ready 
 for them before they started, and after the first 
 morning she always called us early that we 
 might see them go. Then through the day 
 troops of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, passed 
 and repassed upon the roads, and the excitement 
 of watching them never palled upon 'us. The 
 greater part of our time was spent down at the 
 forge, where, while we waited for new sights, 
 Pierre repeated to us all the stories about the 
 soldiers that each fresh day of the occupation set 
 afloat, and our enthusiasm was fanned by hear- 
 ing how much they suffered from fatigue and 
 want of food, and yet how well and kindly they 
 behaved. It almost always happened as on the 
 first day that they did not get any rations till 
 they were exhausted for want of food ; besides 
 that, all the bread we had seen going in open 
 wagons to Cassagne had been put damp into the 
 cellars of the mairie, and before the men got it, 
 it was covered with a sort of green mould, which 
 made it too bad to eat. Twice the rations of 
 meat also were bad, and on those days, as vhe
 
 HECTOR. 237 
 
 soldiers had no money and there were not enough 
 shops in our neighborhood in any case to supply 
 food for so many, the men were almost starving. 
 Young soldiers had been seen crying for hunger 
 in the streets of Cassagne, and the old ones, 
 both officers and men, were indignant Still 
 their good-humor and honesty and kindliness 
 never failed. Those who came to us stacked 
 their mouldy bread merrily enough in the yard 
 for our pigs to eat, and were grateful for what- 
 ever we gave. They cleaned the knives and 
 boots of the house, and cracked jokes over the 
 size of Hector's absurd little clothes, which one 
 of them generally brushed. They helped Made- 
 Ion to scour her saucepans, and were always 
 ready to chatter good-humoredly with Hector 
 and me. I was proud for Hector to see them, 
 and he admired them as much as ever I could 
 \\ish. 
 
 It may easily be imagined under these circum- 
 stances what we felt when about the third or 
 fourth morning of the occupation, Sceur Amelie 
 took it upon herself to advise Grand'mre to 
 keep us very close to the house while the coun- 
 try was so full of soldiers. 
 
 "An evil turn is so quickly done," she said : 
 " and it is not even, Madame Loustanoff, as if
 
 238 HECTOR. 
 
 the children were your own. What would you 
 say to Hector's grandfather if the child were 
 found murdered in a wood ? " 
 
 Hector laughed one of his infectious merry 
 laughs. 
 
 " What would you say to the superior, ma 
 Soeur, if the soldiers mistook your white cornette 
 for a target," he asked, " and it were found 
 pierced with bullet-holes in the road ? " 
 
 But Grand'mere seemed struck by what Soeur 
 Amelie had said. 
 
 " When I was young, sir," she remarked to 
 Hector, " I was taught to respect my elders. It 
 seems that it is no longer the fashion." And 
 while Hector was blushing to the roots of his 
 hair, as he always did at a reproof from Grand- 
 'mere, she continued, with her eyes fixed thought- 
 fully upon us, "It is true they are not mine; 
 they are a trust. We will see about this." 
 
 That was all at the time,' but Hector and I 
 were inwardly furious with Soeur Amelie for 
 talking of our beloved soldiers as if they were 
 brigands. They had given proof enough of their 
 goodness now for us to feel that we had a right 
 to be indignant for their sakes, and Hector 
 showed his anger by doing all his lessons badly 
 and being stupid as only he could be.
 
 HECTOR. 239 
 
 Clever as he really was, he seemed at times to 
 have an absolute genius for stupidity. His face 
 used to assume a sullen expression, his brows 
 used to wrinkle, he would take no step without 
 asking for directions, and in the simplest expla- 
 nation he would invariably find a dark point 
 which afforded an excuse for further questions. 
 I was never quite sure at those times whether 
 he was acting, or whether, when his mind was 
 full of other things, Sceur Amelie's talk did so 
 confuse him that he forgot from sentence to sen- 
 tence what she was saying ; but I am inclined to 
 think that what he really did was to abstract his 
 mind almost entirely from a present which was 
 disagreeable to him, and that he thus produced 
 upon his companions of the moment the impres- 
 sion of a child half imbecile. 
 
 On this occasion Sceur Ame"lie was very an- 
 gry. She told him several times that he was 
 intolerable, and declared more than once that 
 she believed the child was an idiot, but it had no 
 effect. At the end of lesson time every lesson 
 was still undone, and Sceur Am&ie went away 
 still angry, telling Hector that he might do 
 them as he best could by himself, but that they 
 were to be done somehow before she came 
 next morning,
 
 2<p HECTOR. 
 
 As usual Hector put her out of his mind the 
 very instant she had left the house. Jean wanted 
 us to help him to clean out the coach-house for 
 a fresh set of soldiers who were coming in that 
 afternoon, and before Soeur Amelie was at the 
 end of the lane, Hector was already busy with 
 broom and pitchfork. 
 
 He came in to dinner rosy with exercise, and 
 with an appetite that would have astonished 
 himself when he first came to us. 
 
 Grand'm^re knew nothing about his behavior 
 at lessons, and .she looked pleased as his plate 
 came forward again and again to be replenished. 
 " Enfin," she said, towards the end of dinner, 
 " my system is not bad. I think your grand- 
 father would be satisfied, Hector, if he saw you 
 now." 
 
 And a minute afterwards she added : 
 
 " Should you be afraid to take a message for 
 me to the mill this afternoon ? " 
 
 The sudden lighting of Hector's countenance 
 was answer enough. 
 
 " You believe in the soldiers, then ? You 
 don't think they would gobble up little children 
 if they met them in the wood ? " 
 
 Hector laughed contentedly. " If they are 
 not given any oth.er rations," he said, " it is
 
 HECTOR. 241 
 
 always possible. But since there are no com- 
 plaints ! " Then suddenly changing his manner, 
 he burst out as if in angry recollection, " I do 
 think it is a shame, when people are as good 
 as they can be, to talk as if they were ogres, and 
 monsters, and everything that is horrible. The 
 people who do it can't know what it feels like to 
 be good. I hate them." 
 
 " Hum ! " said Grand'mere, in her quiet sar- 
 castic fashion, " you do well to hate every one 
 who has a different opinion from you. It is one 
 of the first duties of the Christian." 
 
 "I have reflected," she added presently, when 
 Hector had had time to digest her remark, "and 
 I also believe in the good behavior of the sol- 
 diers. I trust them, and I will not keep you 
 always in the house. But you must remain to- 
 gether. Where one goes the other must go. I 
 make you responsible for each other, and you 
 understand that since you have liberty you must 
 use it well." 
 
 We promised in our hearts all Grand'mere 
 could wish, and it was with a new sense of self- 
 respect that we started after dinner for the mill. 
 
 The autumn sun was very bright, and the coun- 
 try was basking in midday heat, when we set out. 
 There was not a creature stirring in the distant 
 16
 
 242 HECTOR. 
 
 fields, and the woods were so still, that as we 
 passed through them our own voices chattering 
 made a noise which seemed to be repeated a 
 thousand times in the emptiness. 
 
 Grand'mere had not told us to hurry to the 
 mill, and as her message was only to ask Bap- 
 tiste when he would be next going to Montfort, 
 we knew it did not matter at what hour he re- 
 ceived it, so we dawdled along in our usual 
 happy fashion, stopping to look at all sorts of 
 things and to listen from time to time to the tap 
 of the woodpeckers, who alone worked on 
 through the heat. The excitement of the sol- 
 diers during the past week had caused us in 
 some measure to forget the woods, and I remem- 
 ber well the feeling we had that day as of coming 
 back to old friends when we found ourselves, 
 not under the shade, but in the golden light of 
 the trees. It was a season when the woods were 
 changing rapidly and every day made them 
 more beautiful. That year was also, I am glad 
 to think, a specially beautiful 1 year in the Cha- 
 losse, and the whole way from Salaret to the 
 river lay through a maze of gold and purple, and 
 dark brown and crimson and pale yellow. 
 Above us, around us, at our feet, were such 
 beauties as no one can picture who does not
 
 HKCTOR. 243 
 
 know autumn woods, and so much had happened 
 in the last few days among the tree branches, 
 and the briars and the bracken, that Hector and 
 I found almost more than we could think about. 
 The strange thing is that we neither of us talked 
 to each other about the beauty, and yet I know 
 as well that his mind was full of it as I know 
 that I have never forgotten it myself. We talked 
 joyously at first about the soldiers, then as the 
 silence of the woods fell upon us, we dropped 
 each into our own thoughts. 
 
 " I understand partly," Hector said at last, 
 " why kings don't always give their subjects 
 liberty." 
 
 I had so often heard him talk of the beauties 
 of freedom that I was surprised at the change, 
 and I asked him " why ? " 
 
 " Because," he said, " I see now that it is not 
 easy to be sure you are using liberty well ; and 
 I suppose kings think that the people ought 
 to be taught first." 
 
 I did not think very much about liberty my- 
 self one way or the other, but I knew Hector 
 did, and that it would puzzle and worry him to 
 find his favorite idea wrong, so I. said : 
 
 " I dare say people have to learn to use it the 
 way they learn every thing else, by trying, and
 
 244 HECTOB. 
 
 the best way is for them to have it, so that they 
 may try." 
 
 " Because, you mean, nothing but liberty can 
 teach them to use liberty," he said quickly. 
 " Yes, I believe that is it. Perhaps that's why 
 Grand'mere gives it to us. I should like to learn. 
 Zelie," he continued, turning round to look at 
 me, " how awfully clever you are sometimes. 
 You seem to know things by jumps." 
 
 I wasn't clever a bit. I didn't know any- 
 thing about it, and I had only said what I 
 did to make his thoughts comfortable, but I 
 blushed for pleasure at his praise, and I would 
 have been ready now to talk of liberty for half 
 an hour. 
 
 He had said all he wanted to say on the sub- 
 ject, and the next moment he was telling me 
 about a place he had discovered where the birds 
 came to drink in the hot weather. 
 
 " Come along," he said, " and I will show it to 
 you; only mind, you must do what the author 
 of the Aviceptologie says ladies can't do, you 
 must resist your natural itching to talk and 
 laugh, otherwise, we shan't see any birds." 
 
 Hector so loved that book that Grand'mere 
 had long since given it to him for his own, and 
 he knew it now almost by heart. So indeed
 
 HECTOR. 245 
 
 did I, and in the course of many bird-calling 
 expeditions, I had learned to remain as perfectly 
 still under the bushes as Hector himself. His 
 recommendation to silence was, therefore, on 
 this occasion hardly necessary, but he had a 
 habit of teasing me from time to time with 
 reminders that I was only a girl, and I believe 
 the feeling that I had to support the honor of 
 our whole sex in his* eyes, made me often do 
 things much better than I should otherwise have 
 done. However that may be, we had long 
 wished tp find the birds' drinking-place at this 
 end of the wood, and when Hector led me to a 
 little ditch at the bottom of Lagrace's vineyard, 
 I lay like a mute by his side between the vines. 
 It was not the right hour of course to see 
 birds come to drink, still the wet ground all 
 round the tiny stream was so cut up by the 
 marks of claws, that we were sure it was a gen- 
 eral drinking-place, and we hoped to see a few 
 birds even now. Surely enough, after patiently 
 waiting for ten minutes, there was a rustle in 
 the underwood on the other side of the stream, 
 and a wren hopped down to bathe and drink. 
 He dipped his wee head in the water, the light 
 drops were scattered on either side. We held 
 our breath for pleasure, for we did not often
 
 246 II EC TOR. 
 
 get a chance of observing wrens at their every- 
 day work. He, perching on a mossy stone, 
 dipped and bowed and scattered water in the 
 sunshine ; he was just going to hop right in, 
 when a sudden loud and angry voice arose up at 
 the house, and in one instant he was gone. 
 
 Hector and I started with impatience, and 
 then hid ourselves quickly again. But it was 
 useless to hope for more birds while the noise 
 at the farm continued. There was evidently 
 something the matter. Many voices were raised 
 in tones both of scolding and lamentation, and 
 above them all we heard Lagrace's, loud and 
 harsh. 
 
 We could distinguish no words at first, but 
 after a time Lagrace with his sons went away to 
 work, and we heard his voice distinctly as he ap- 
 proached along the vineyard path. 
 
 " Enfin," with an oath, " this must come to an 
 end ; I am not a fool to ruin myself for a child's 
 caprice. I have said, and I will be obeyed. 
 You have till to-morrow. After that, gare ! " 
 
 Then a gradually fading murmur of sound up 
 at the house, and all fell into silence again. 
 
 But we could think no more of birds. We 
 felt suddenly as though we had been horribly 
 selfish to think of them at all.
 
 HECTOR, 247 
 
 Hector stood up presently and shook himself 
 and said, " Let us go up to the house and see 
 Irma, and ask after that ox that was sick. Per- 
 haps, after all, Lagrace was scolding about it." 
 
 The scolding had been so violent that I fol- 
 lowed him in some fear and trembling, half-dread- 
 ing, though all was silent now, the spirit of 
 anger that seemed to live within the walls of the 
 farmhouse. 
 
 Madame Lagrace was stringing onions under 
 a shed in the garden. She was a stern-faced 
 woman, who had a reputation for working very 
 hard and behaving like a stepmother to her own 
 children. She was working hard now, and the 
 onion string she was engaged upon grew like 
 magic under her fingers, but she seemed to have 
 no satisfaction in her work. Her face was as 
 dismal as if she had been sitting idle with dull 
 thoughts. We asked for Irma ; she jerked her 
 head towards the stable, and said she was over 
 there. 
 
 " May we go and see her ? " said Hector ; " we 
 came to ask after the ox that was sick." 
 
 " You may go ; and you'll see two things 
 about equally useful to a peasant a dead ox and 
 a girl who won't serve her parents. Ah, ma foil 
 and after her there are still ten to feed."
 
 248 HECTOR. 
 
 "The ox dead!" I exclaimed, knowing better 
 than Hector what that meant to a me'tayer who 
 was not rich. " The ox dead ! What will 
 you do ? " 
 
 "Ah! just so," she said bitterly; "what will 
 we do ? The horses sold this year for next to 
 nothing, the wine spoilt with cutting the grapes 
 too early, and now the finest ox dead. I saw 
 very well yesterday that it was going to die, and 
 I told Lagrace he had better kill it, and at least 
 sell the meat ; but no, he is always obstinate as 
 a mule, and then is surprised that his daughter 
 matches him. Between the two of them they 
 will ruin us from top to bottom. What we shall 
 do ! The children soon will not have a bit to 
 eat, and we shall become a shame and a laughing- 
 stock to the neighborhood." 
 
 I expressed our sympathy as I best could, but 
 naturally it did not console her much. 
 
 "It is ruin," she repeated doggedly; "one 
 brings us to it, and when there is yet. a way to 
 escape, the other hesitates to take it. Eh bien ! 
 I am sick of obstinate people. But I must have 
 my turn. We have trifled enough, and now that 
 I charge myself with affairs, we shall see if they 
 won't mend. Nobody shall resist me long." 
 
 She looked so hard and cruel while she spoke,
 
 JTECTOR. 249 
 
 that all my sympathy for her went away, and I 
 was glad to escape from her angry eyes and fol 
 low Hector to the stable. 
 
 We neither of us spoke as we went across the 
 yard. We saw no one, and we had no need to 
 ask in which shed Irma was. The sound of a 
 child's weeping drew us to an open door. We 
 looked in. There on the litter lay the dead ox, 
 and on an upturned pail by the manger Irma sat 
 with her head bowed upon her hands. The 
 children stood round, looking on with solemn, 
 wide-open eyes, and the sound of weeping came 
 from little Jeanne, who stood af Irma's knee, 
 crying and sobbing as if for a sympathy that'she 
 knew no other way to express. 
 
 Irma raised her head as we came in at the 
 door, but she did not see us ; she only took little 
 Jeanne upon her knee and held her close in her 
 arms, and said : 
 
 "There, there, poor little one! don't cry, you 
 have no need. Irma will do something soon 
 which will make you so happy and so rich. You 
 shall have fritters on Sunday, and everything 
 that you like." 
 
 And then suddenly Irma herself began to cry, 
 and while Jeanne laid her head, soothed, upon 
 her sister's shoulder, big tears splashed fast one 
 after another on the child's blue pinafore.
 
 250 HECTOR. 
 
 " Irma, you are crying," she said ; " why do 
 you cry if we are going to be rich and happy ? " 
 
 " It is that " Then she broke down com- 
 pletely, and seemed to forget the children. 
 " Oh ! it is hard. But God wills it ; I prayed to 
 Him so well. When the ox fell ill I knew that 
 all my happiness was there, and I watched him 
 night and day. I said in my heart I would take 
 it for a sign ; and God would not have it so. I 
 must submit." 
 
 "Irma! Irma! What is it ?" cried the little 
 thing, clinging to her sister's neck as Irma's 
 sobs rose choking her, and her tears fell fast. 
 " What is the matter with you ? " 
 
 " It is that it is that he will always think I 
 have betrayed him because the other is more 
 rich. And I must never tell him to the con- 
 trary. Ah, if God could have spared but this 
 one ox ! " 
 
 " It is because of the ox that you are crying ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear, yes ! because of the ox." And 
 Irma, seeming to recollect herself, raised her 
 head and wiped her tears away with the corner 
 of her apron. " You must not make yourselves 
 sad," she said, looking round at the other child- 
 ren ; " I am stupid to go and cry like that when 
 duty is there quite simple."
 
 11ECTOE. 251 
 
 Her eyes fell at the moment upon us, and 
 Hector, whom I had not looked at till then, 
 stepped forward with his face very white, and 
 his eyes dark and glowing. 
 
 " What is your duty ? what are you going to 
 do, Irma ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am going to marry the miller," she re- 
 plied in a dull quiet voice. 
 
 " The miller ! Baptiste ! " we cried together, 
 too-much astonished for another word, while the 
 children, who had no doubt been taught to 
 desire this, set up a shout of joy. 
 
 " Our ox is dead," she said. " If I marry the 
 miller he will give us another ox, and he will 
 lend money to my father. The children will 
 have enough to eat." She pointed as she spoke 
 with one hand to the ox, and with the other arm 
 drew little Jeanne closer against her breast. 
 Her eyes looking up at Hector were so good 
 and honest, that to look at them would have 
 made it impossible for me to say anothe? word. 
 They did not seem to have that effect on Hector. 
 "And Georges," he said, "you seem to be quite 
 forgetting him ! " 
 
 A sudden quiver ran through -her, but she 
 replied as quietly as before : 
 
 "No, I am not forgetting him. I am doing
 
 S 2 HECTOE. 
 
 my duty. Children do not understand these 
 things." 
 
 "No, indeed!" Hector broke out bitterly, 
 "we don't understand the kind of duty which 
 makes you break your promises, and break 
 hearts, and then say it's all right because the 
 children will have fritters on Sunday. It's 
 horrible of you. I didn't think you were so 
 wicked." 
 
 His cheek flushed, his lip quivered as he 
 spoke. Irma looked at him in surprise, and so 
 did I, for I hardly thought he would have cared 
 so much. 
 
 " You do not forget ! " he continued. " You 
 remember how Georges said to you in the wood 
 that it was like a sickness to him here," and 
 Hector put his hand, as Georges had done, upon 
 his heart, " to think other people were trying to 
 get you, and how he could never live in this 
 place if you married anyone else, but that he 
 would go to Africa, and leave his old father to 
 die alone. You remember how you promised 
 that in any case you would wait; and still you 
 are going to marry a great fat selfish brute, who 
 is engaged already to someone else. I thought 
 you were different. I thought you were faithful ; 
 and if it's duty to be unfaithful, then I'd a. great 
 deal rather be wicked."
 
 HECTOR. 253 
 
 Irma's pale cheeks began to glow as Hector 
 spoke, but the only part of his speech which she 
 attempted to answer was his allusion to the 
 miller's engagement.- 
 
 " How ! " she exclaimed, " he betrothed al- 
 ready ? It is not enough for him to break my 
 heart and Georges'. There is yet another un- 
 fortunate." 
 
 We told her all we knew about Marie Monthez, 
 and how we were sure she loved the miller; and 
 then the finishing stroke was put to our horror 
 of Baptiste. It seemed that instead of intend- 
 ing to marry Marie Monthez himself, he was 
 trying to arrange a match between her and 
 Georges, in order that Irma might be left free 
 for him. 
 
 "She is too old for Georges," Irma said; "but 
 she was always his favorite cousin. The miller 
 has influence with the family, because he is rich, 
 and he told my father yesterday that it was all 
 but settled, I have only to give my consent to 
 marry him, and next day Georges and Marie are 
 engaged. Oh ! he is cruel and selfish. He 
 knows how to have his own way." 
 
 But Hector's belief in Georges was not for an 
 instant shaken, and he had little pity for Irma's 
 perplexities.
 
 254 HECTOR. 
 
 "Anyone can have his own way if women are 
 such fools that they can't keep a promise. What 
 has the miller to do with you ? " Hector said. 
 " It was not he who told Georges he'd wait for 
 him. It was not he who told Georges he trusted 
 him." 
 
 "And then," Irma went on rapidly, "what is 
 that you say about the postman having called 
 one day at the forge ? Pierre told me he had 
 not had a letter, and who but Georges would 
 write to him when they knew he cannot read ? 
 What can I do ? How can I know the truth 
 when my parents and my friends are lying 
 against me ? " 
 
 She bowed her head again upon her hands, 
 and we remained all silent for a moment. 
 
 Then the children seeing that Irma no longer 
 wept, became suddenly shy of us, and ran away 
 into the yard, and Irma and Hector entered into 
 a discussion, in which, though I cannot now 
 remember the words, I remember very well that 
 Hector's one idea, from which he could not be 
 moved, was, that Irma had no right to break her 
 promise to Georges. He argued against every- 
 thing she had to say so stoutly and fiercely that 
 she seemed almost to forget he was a child, and 
 I saw her look at him once or twice in a sort of
 
 HECTOR. 255 
 
 surprise, as one looks at a person one has never 
 known before. 
 
 " I am very ignorant," she said. " I do not 
 know much what is right or wrong, but I trusted 
 to God for a sign, and now it has come and I 
 dare not disobey." I should not have dared to 
 argue against that, and even without it I should 
 have thought her very good to do what her 
 father and mother wished ; but Hector seemed 
 sure the other way. 
 
 " You promised Georges. Georges thinks you 
 are his, and you have no right to break your 
 word," he reiterated. " You chose to say in 
 your heart that the ox's death would be a sign, 
 but God isn't obliged to do according to your 
 heart, and it isn't a sign. He never gave a sign 
 to be unfaithful." 
 
 I, scarcely knowing which I agreed with; could 
 not help believing that Hector must be right, 
 and Irma's heart was on his side all the time. 
 So at last it seemed quite natural to us, that 
 when he prayed Irma to wait one week before 
 she gave her answer to her father, she was 
 inclined, child as he was, to listen seriously to 
 his proposal. 
 
 "If you will wait," he said, "we will find 
 some way of letting Georges know, and he will
 
 256 HECTOR. 
 
 tell you what to do ; but you cannot break your 
 promise by yourself." 
 
 It was settled thus at last. Hector was not 
 content with a vague promise from Irma that 
 she would think about it. He made her enter 
 into a clear and serious engagement that she 
 would not give her father a final answer for 
 another week, and he on his side entered into 
 an equally serious engagement to let Georges 
 know before that time what was taking place at 
 home. 
 
 Then we left the me"tairie with the immediate 
 duty before us of giving Grand'mere's message 
 to the miller.
 
 HECTOR. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WOULD as willingly have undertaken to go 
 and talk quietly to a dragon in his den as to 
 go and talk quietly to the miller after the news we 
 had just received. It seemed too dreadful that 
 he should be the rich old man whom Irma was to 
 marry. He, so selfish, so dull, so fat. He who 
 had tried to set the people against the soldiers. 
 He whom we had always laughed at. All this 
 summer, while we had been meeting him and 
 talking to him and treating him like other 
 people, he had been persecuting her and trying 
 to take her away from Georges. I felt so dazed 
 and bewildered by the discovery, that I was 
 hardly yet able to take in the fact that Hector 
 had become mixed up in the matter, and that 
 he had promised to let Georges know what was 
 going on. Any thoughts I had about the 
 possibility of helping her were expressed in the 
 despairing exclamation which burst from me as 
 the comfortable red tiles of the mill and the still 
 17
 
 258 HECTOR. 
 
 pond fringed with laden chestnut trees came in 
 sight. 
 
 " Oh, Hector ! He is so rich. She will never 
 escape from him." 
 
 I had no hope that she could be saved, but 
 Hector thought differently. 
 
 He turned round upon me with a sort of 
 surprise. 
 
 " But she must escape," he said. " It is not 
 likely that a selfish brute like that will have his 
 way, and good fellows like Georges give up. 
 She ought to have stuck firm to her promise 
 always, and then there'd have been no fear." 
 
 " Hector," I asked incredulously, " have you 
 really the idea that you can render Irma any 
 service ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " You told her you would let Georges know ; 
 uut you would not ever be able to find him, 
 would you ? " 
 
 " You don't suppose I'd have promised if I 
 didn't mean to find him. Of course I shall let 
 him know." 
 
 " But you don't know the number of his 
 battalion," I said ; not that I wanted to dis- 
 ouade him, but simply that I was so astounded 
 at the undertaking he thus coolly entered upon,
 
 HECTOR. 259 
 
 that I could not help enumerating the difficul- 
 ties. " Nor the name of his colonel. The 
 chasseurs don't come ; and if we go about 
 among the troops asking for Georges of St. 
 Loubouet they will take us only for two mad 
 children. That again would matter little ; but 
 if Irma is going to marry the miller for the 
 children's sake, of what use will it be to bring 
 Georges here? He has no money." 
 
 Then I understood that what Hector had said 
 to Irma was what he really thought. 
 
 "She must not marry the miller for the 
 children's sake," he said, indignantly. " I don't 
 see the good of people having tongues if they 
 can only tell lies with them ; and when she 
 promised Georges she'd wait for him, she ought 
 to keep that promise first of everything." 
 
 " Even when she breaks it for a good pur- 
 pose?" 
 
 " All I know is," said Hector doggedly, " that 
 if I was a man I'd hate a woman who said ' yes ' 
 with a whole lot of 'ifs' in her heart. You'd 
 never feel sure at any minute that her 'yes' 
 wasn't going to turn into 'no.' If she means 
 'yes,' let her say it, and then afterwards stick to 
 it ; and if she^doesn't mean it, don't let her say 
 it at all."
 
 260 HECTOtt. 
 
 He muttered something about " wishy-washy 
 girls," and then he said aloud, " Zelie, you know 
 what Dr. Charles and Esquebesse think gentle- 
 men ought to be. Well, I think like them, and 
 because you and I are a gentleman and lady, we 
 ought to work for Irma. The only thing that 
 can do any good is to bring Georges here, and I 
 am going to bring him here. You can help or 
 not, as you like, only mind you're not to say 
 'yes' with ' ifs ' in your heart. If you say 'yes,' 
 you're to do everything I want, and I may want 
 more than you think." 
 
 At that moment I happened to look towards 
 the mill, and I saw the miller's fat comfortable 
 figure crossing the stream by the little bridge 
 that led into the wood. He paused half way, 
 and shaded his eyes with his hands that he might 
 look up at Lagrace's me"tairie. The sight of him 
 was enough to drive away indecision if I had had 
 any. I turned boldly round and answered with 
 a smile, " No matter what you want to do, I'll 
 help you." 
 
 Then we took hands, and ran down together 
 towards the mill. We knew that the miller was 
 not in ; so we went on into the wood to find him, 
 and it was not long before we marked his blue 
 blouse down among the yellow fern by the river.
 
 HECTOR. 261 
 
 He was walking up and down smoking a cigar- 
 ette as though he were waiting for some one ; 
 and whether it was the recollection of the person 
 whom we had last seen with him in that place, 
 or the thoughts of which our minds were full, 
 I cannot say, but the same idea flashed through 
 both our heads at once. 
 
 "Stop," Hector said, "let us watch him, and 
 see who comes. If it isn't our business, we 
 needn't listen." 
 
 We were still at some distance from him, and 
 he had not remarked our approach, for the brack- 
 en was in many places above our heads. We 
 had nothing to do, therefore, but to stay where 
 we were, by the water's edge, under the spread- 
 ing branches of a chestnut tree, and we had not 
 waited very long before the sound of footsteps 
 advancing over the dry bracken and crackling 
 beech nuts told us that the miller's friend was 
 coming. We peeped out cautiously from behind 
 the bracken. It was he, the tramp ! Good-bye 
 to any lingering scruples we might have had on 
 the subject of listening to what was not intended 
 for us. We strained our ears and craned our 
 necks, and by standing on the very tips of our 
 toes, we succeeded in obtaining a good view of 
 the bit of ground on which the miller stood. We
 
 262 HECTOR. 
 
 could not hear everything that was said, but 
 after a few sentences had passed between them, 
 each man put his hand in his pocket, the miller 
 pulled some money out of his, and the tramp at 
 the same moment produced a letter. Hector 
 had hold of my hand at the time, and he squeez- 
 ed it so tight that I could hardly help screaming. 
 I would rather have had it squeezed off, how- 
 ever, than have made any noise, and it was well 
 that I was silent, for just at that moment we 
 caught the sound of the miller's voice. 
 
 The tramp was holding out the letter to him. 
 
 " No, no," he said, " I will not touch it. You 
 shall have your money, but you shall not have it 
 to say of me that I received a stolen letter. If 
 it falls in the river it is not my fault." 
 
 He threw up some silver coins and caught 
 them again. The letter span out over the water, 
 and the next thing we saw was the tramp chink- 
 ing the money in his turn before he thrust it 
 into his pocket. Then the tramp and the miller 
 walked away together ; and two minutes later, 
 Hector, hanging from one of the low spreading 
 boughs of the chestnut tree which had sheltered 
 us, had fished the bit of drenched white paper 
 from the water. We did not know Georges' 
 handwriting, but the letter was directed to
 
 HECTOR. 263 
 
 Pierre, and it had the Montfort postmark, which 
 was quite enough for us ; our triumph was great. 
 But we had no time to enjoy it, for Hector had 
 only just folded the letter in his handkerchief, 
 and put it carefully in the breast pocket of his 
 coat, when we heard the footsteps of the miller 
 returning alone. 
 
 We should have liked to run, but there was 
 Grand'mere's message to deliver. We there- 
 fore made our way down to the mill, and met 
 the miller on the threshold of his own door. 
 
 He looked very radiant and self-satisfied. I 
 think my eyes must have flashed fire at him, I 
 felt so angry. Hector seemed as dull and cold 
 as a stone. 
 
 "When I shall be going to Montfort," said 
 the miller when we had given our message. 
 "Yes, I shall have business there the day after 
 to-morrow, business upon which I shall per- 
 haps have to consult your grandmother too. 
 H6 ! It is fine weather for business." 
 
 He thrust his hands deep down as he spoke 
 into the pockets of his baggy trousers, and 
 looked at us with the satisfied air of a donkey 
 who rubs his back against a tree. I felt as if I 
 should choke. 
 
 " Yes," said Hector, in his most absent man- 
 ner. " It is fine weather too for fishing."
 
 264 HECTOR. 
 
 The miller was startled out of his state of 
 beatitude. He glanced at Hector in evident 
 discomfort, but Hector's countenance remained 
 a blank, and he composed himself again. 
 
 " Do you sometimes fish ?" he asked. 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 " Do you ever catch anything ? " 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 . And then, as if rousing himself with an effort 
 to put a question, Hector looked coolly up at the 
 miller, and said : 
 
 " Can you tell us the number of Georges of St. 
 Loubouet's battalion and the name of his 
 colonel ? " 
 
 This time, whether with surprise or vexation, 
 or a mixture of both, the miller turned red up to 
 the roots of his hair, and having done that, with 
 Hector's clear eyes fixed upon him, he seemed 
 to grow more and more confused and angry. 
 
 "What do I know about it?" he asked irri- 
 tably. " Do you suppose I keep account of the 
 regiments and colonels of all the young fellows 
 about here who are taken by the conscription ? 
 I have something else to do. You may tell your 
 grandmother then, that I shall be going to Mont- 
 fort the day after to-morrow." 
 
 We turned away, and another thought seemed 
 to strike him.
 
 HECTOR. 265 
 
 " Wait for me a minute," he cried, " I am go- 
 ing up to Lagrace's place now, and after that I 
 will pass round by your grandmother's. Marie 
 Anna will give you some gotiter while I slip on 
 a clean blouse." 
 
 His company was the last thing we desired, 
 and we were beginning to say that we could not 
 wait, when we perceived Marie Anna in the pas- 
 sage behind him, making hideous signs to us to 
 accept his offer. 
 
 We entered therefore, and while the miller 
 went up stairs Marie Anna beckoned us into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " He knows Georges' battalion as well as I 
 do," she averred. " It is the 3d, Colonel Roche. 
 But you will search for Georges in vain amongst 
 the soldiers who are here ; he is not coming ; his 
 colonel keeps him to write in the office at Mont- 
 fort. Tenez ! without more feigning, I saw you 
 just now by the riverside ; what was it you fished 
 out of the water with so much care ? " 
 
 I looked in dismay at Hector ; but he did not 
 ' seem to mind in the least, and answered boldly : 
 
 " It was a letter from Georges which had been 
 stolen." 
 
 " And it is for that that you wan f his ad- 
 dress ? "
 
 266 HECTOR. 
 
 " Yes, it is to let him know that your master 
 is an old coward who is trying to steal his sweet- 
 heart from him. And you may go straight up 
 stairs and tell your master what I am going to 
 do if you like, I don't want him to be friends 
 with me. But he needn't think he has got 
 Irma yet." 
 
 Marie Anna did not show, the slightest incli- 
 nation to declare our proceedings to her master. 
 
 " Oui da ! Oui da ! " she said, nodding her 
 head emphatically. " If that is how it is, I am 
 on your side ; Irma is not of his age, it is a folly. 
 Ah ! the old fox, he would intercept letters, 
 would he ? He becomes sharp in his old age ; 
 but there are others who are sharper. Listen ! " 
 she dropped her voice as she spoke and glanced 
 suspiciously at the staircase. " He is weaving a 
 plot to make her think that Georges is marrying 
 another. Tell her from me that there is not one 
 word of truth in it. Old women know every- 
 thing, and I know they may do what they like: 
 Marie Monthez won't have it any more than 
 Georges." 
 
 The miller's step was heard on the staircase, 
 and we were soon, in spite of our distaste for his 
 company, walking with him up the road. We 
 lagged a little behind, so as to avoid the neces-
 
 J1ECTUL. 26J 
 
 sity of conversation, and I do not believe that 
 Hector looked at him once as we went along. 
 But I could not take my eyes from him ; his 
 heavy clumsy figure looked heavier and clumsier 
 to me at every step he took. I noticed how 
 round his shoulders were, how he rolled from 
 side to side, and scarcely lifted his feet when he 
 walked, how he never raised his head to look at 
 the fields, but plodded forward with his eyes on 
 the dust. Then every five minutes he stopped to 
 take off his cap and wipe his face as though 
 going up the hill to the me"tairie were hard work, 
 when the worst heat of the day was over. And 
 presently, as if to mark the contrast, four sol- 
 diers came out from a side road and marched up 
 the hill before us with a light and springing 
 step, chatting gayly to each other as they went. 
 
 I had often seen the miller's ugliness and 
 awkwardness before, but he had never looked to 
 me so ugly as he did on that day, when I knew 
 how cruel and selfish he was in his heart ; and 
 as I walked behind him, I remember feeling a 
 sort of horrible fascination, as though he were 
 wickedness itself moving along the sunny road, 
 and I were obliged to stay close by it. 
 
 When we reached the me'tairie, the miller 
 turned in at the gate. We continued our road,
 
 268 HECTOR. 
 
 skirting the low paling of the farmyard. Irma 
 was turning over straw with a pitchfork in one 
 of the sheds, but before we had time to call her, 
 Madame Lagrace came out of the house. She 
 looked round a moment as if to find her daugh- 
 ter, then seeing Irma in the shed, she crossed 
 the yard, snatched the pitchfork away, and, with- 
 out any apparent reason, gave Irma a vigorous 
 box on the ears. 
 
 We saw Irma's eyes flash fire for an instant, 
 for she was not meek by nature. Then she 
 seemed to recollect herself, and straightening 
 the handkerchief which bound her hair, she went 
 into the house without a word, her pale face 
 looking all the paler for the red mark left by her 
 mother's hand upon her cheek. 
 
 Just then if Hector had asked me to go 
 through fire and water to save her, I would have 
 done it willingly.
 
 HECTOR. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ~^K 7E lost little time, as may be imagined, in 
 taking the rescued letter to the forge, 
 fisrjuebes^f happened to be with Pierre. It was 
 he who 'pened it and read aloud the contents. 
 It came as we had thought, from Georges, and 
 thft d;?'.e showed that it must have arrived the 
 very **ay we saw the postman stop outside the 
 forge. In it Georges told how his colonel was 
 obliged to keep him at Montfort, because of the 
 sudden death of one of the non-commissioned 
 officers, and how this same unexpected circum- 
 stance had given him his promotion. " But," 
 he said, " if it is Irma who reads this letter to 
 you, she is to know that they might make me 
 Marshal of France, and it would not give me the 
 same pleasure as only to see her ; for I think of 
 her night and day, and it seems to me I can 
 never he satisfied till I touch her hand again." 
 And the miller had almost made her believe that 
 Geor-/es was forgetting her ! Hector and I 
 boik d over with indignation.
 
 270 HECTOR. 
 
 " Ha ! " said Pierre, " it is with good reason 
 that they never let her come now to the forge ; 
 they fear that she may hear the truth. But it is 
 you, Esquebesse, who must charge yourself with 
 letting her know it now. And since we have 
 discovered the plots that Messer Baptiste has 
 been laying, we must find means to turn him 
 aside with a little threat of the law. What he 
 has done with regard to the letter is surely an 
 affair for the tribunal, and though I am not rich, 
 and have no malice towards him, I would will- 
 ingly pay a little prosecution if it could serve 
 the children. I love that Georges as if he were 
 my son. It would give me pain to see him 
 surfer." 
 
 " Yes," said Esquebesse, " it is on the miller 
 we must work. Irma is there torn between her 
 duty and her inclination. She sees the children 
 cry, she is told that it is her duty to marry the 
 miller, and she is a girl to break her heart rather 
 than not do*her duty. But she shall have this 
 letter to-night, and I charge myself after that 
 with frightening the miller. He is very soft for 
 all his bluster, and cowardly as an old hen. You 
 see there, children," he added, turning to us, 
 " one who has not learnt the lesson of the woods. 
 He does not understand what it means to re-
 
 HECTOR. 271 
 
 spect the lives of others, or he would never have 
 conceived the idea of putting himself between 
 Irma and her happiness." He folded the letter 
 as he spoke, and put it in his pocket. " Count 
 upon me, Pierre," he said ; " I will do what I 
 can. And you, children, you are very good and 
 sensible to have saved the letter and brought it 
 here so quickly. Shall you be able, now, do you 
 think, to hold your tongues about it to everyone, 
 even to your grandmother herself ? " 
 
 We readily promised what he asked, and he 
 went away down the road like a man who has a 
 plan in his head. 
 
 When we got back to Salaret we found that 
 the miller had already been there, and from what 
 Grand'mere was saying to Sceur Amelie, we 
 understood that he had asked Grand'mere's per- 
 mission to marry, and that Grand'mere had 
 granted it with pleasure, still- thinking that 
 Marie Monthez was to be his bride. All was 
 not settled, he had told her, yet, but it was his 
 intention to come and ask for her consent in 
 form, after his return from Montfort. 
 
 Our promise to Esquebesse kept us tongue- 
 tied, and when we had heard all there was to 
 hear we ran into the yard, that we might not be 
 tempted to speak of the subject so near our
 
 272 HECTOR. 
 
 hearts. But even there among the new soldiers 
 we were not to forget it. 
 
 Instead of the red legs and blue coats to which 
 our eyes had now become accustomed, we saw 
 in the yard and washhouse a mass of dull, dark 
 green. 
 
 " What regiment do you belong to ? " Hector 
 asked of the first man we reached. 
 
 " What regiment, my little chap ? " he replied, 
 turning on us a face as bright as a polished ap- 
 ple, " the best regiment in the whole service of 
 France the Little Chasseurs." 
 
 They had come at last. Though we knew 
 now that we were not to expect Georges, it was 
 a pleasure to us to see his regiment, and indeed 
 they were, of all the soldiers we had received, 
 the brightest and most good-humored. 
 
 Tired ! they said, in answer to our enquiries. 
 Not they. A march of twenty kilometres might 
 tire those hulking infantry men, but as for them 
 they would undertake to run forty at their little 
 trot, and be as fresh at the end as at 'the begin- 
 ning. Hungry! Ah bah ! when you were hun- 
 gry in time of war you must tighten your belt. 
 That was dinner enough for soldiers. Never- 
 theless they did ample justice to Madelon's soup 
 and haricots, and Grand'mere's good wine in-
 
 HECTOR. 273 
 
 clined them to conversation. Yes, several of 
 them knew Georges, and those who did were 
 loud in his praise, but they said he would never 
 make a soldier. And when Madelon asked why 
 not, one of them laughed and said, " he has his 
 sweetheart in this country, has he not?" and 
 another, a gray-haired sergeant, said, turning 
 round to Madelon, " You may^tell her from me, 
 Martin Lamotte, friend of her betrothed, that she 
 is a fortunate woman. I am an old soldier now. 
 I have seen plenty of service and plenty of men, 
 and I have never seen a conscript better behaved 
 than that same Georges, nor a soldier more reg- 
 ular in his duty, though he does not love it, and 
 more faithful to his home. La bas at Montfort 
 he has never done a thing that he would not 
 have done in his own village. It is right that 
 she should know this, for it gives a good girl 
 courage to know the goodness of her man." 
 
 It gave us courage, too, for after this Hector 
 and I felt more than ever assured that Georges 
 and the miller were like goodness and wicked- 
 ness opposed. 
 
 We were up long before daylight on the fol- 
 lowing morning, and the first glimmer of sun 
 found us swinging on Lagrace's gate, for we 
 longed to tell Irma what Lamotte had said ; but 
 18
 
 274 HECTOR. 
 
 it was not Irma who came earliest into the yard. 
 Lagrace's voice saluted our ears. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he enquired from the 
 end of the yard. 
 
 " We want to speak to Irma," Hector replied. 
 
 "She is not there." 
 
 Hearing the voices, Irma herself appeared on 
 the threshold, but her father turned round and 
 said sharply, " You go in. If you did your duty 
 you would find other things to occupy yourself 
 than with idle gossiping." 
 
 " It doesn't matter at all," Hector said, in a 
 voice loud enough for Irma to hear; "it will do 
 when she comes for the milk." 
 
 He meant it as a hint to her that she was to 
 come herself for the milk, but Lagrace replied : 
 
 " She won't fetch any milk. We can't afford 
 to pay for it now, and we must do without." 
 
 Irma re-entered the house in obedience to her 
 father's command, but as she went she laid her 
 hand upon her breast and smiled at us. We 
 took that to mean that she had Georges' letter, 
 and that she thanked Hector for saving it, but 
 we had no further opportunity of discovering 
 whether this was the case, for though we return- 
 ed several tirne$ during the morning, and hung 
 the yard of the me"tairie, we did not sue-
 
 HECTOR. 275 
 
 ceed in seeing Irma again. Madame Lagrace 
 came and went and scowled at us from time to 
 time. We got nothing else for our pains. At 
 last, towards half-past eight, it became evident 
 that Irma was not to be allowed to leave the 
 house, for when the children came out with their 
 caps and bags ready for the Salle d'Asile one of 
 the big boys came up from the vineyard to take 
 charge of them. This took away our last hope 
 of seeing Irma, and Hector then announced that 
 we must be content to go for Georges without 
 speaking to her any more. 
 
 Now, though Hector had certainly said, as 
 plainly as words could say it, that he intended 
 to let Georges know what was going on, I had 
 never even conceived the possibility of going 
 ourselves to find him, and on this subject Hec 
 tor and I had the only struggle which ever dis 
 turbed our friendship. His plan was to get 
 from Pierre the three napoleons, which up to 
 that day had remained in the forge, to leave 
 Salaret secretly, to make our way as we best 
 could to Montfort, and having found Georges, to 
 bring him back with us before the week which 
 Irma had given us was out. Just as with regard 
 to Irma his one thought was that she should 
 keep her promise to Georges, so now he concen-
 
 276 HECTOR. 
 
 trated his whole mind upon finding the ways 
 and means of fulfilling his promise given to 
 Irma. That seemed to him right, and he would 
 admit no other thought at all. 
 
 I, on the contrary, was overwhelmed with a 
 sense of the awful naughtiness of running away 
 without Grand'mere's permission, leaving her 
 and the household to surfer agonies of anxiety 
 for a week, and I found courage to dispute the 
 point with Hector, and to tell him that I thought 
 his plan was wicked. 
 
 He listened to my arguments at first with 
 some surprise, and then, with a thoughtful, 
 steady expression on his countenance, which I 
 remember to this day 
 
 " Girls seem to think a great deal of anxiety," 
 he said, when I had done ; " but a little anxiety 
 doesn't really matter when it is over. I think 
 Grand'mere herself would say afterwards that it 
 is better for her to be a little unhappy for a 
 week, than for Irma to be unhappy all her life. 
 And the thing is that, though of course we don't 
 love other people as much as we love Grand'- 
 mere, what happens to them is just as impor- 
 tant," he hesitated as though not easily able to 
 find words in which to express his meaning 
 "well, I mean just as important to God."
 
 HECTOR. ' 277 
 
 I had exhausted myself in argument, and I 
 found nothing more now to say, for I was not 
 accustomed to oppose him. Still I suppose he 
 saw that I was not convinced, for he continued 
 after a pause : 
 
 " Even if I had npt promised, we ought to go 
 for Georges. Irma is there at work, she cannot 
 go to him. He is doing his work at Montfort, 
 he cannot be running back here on chance to 
 see if "she wants him, and here we are rich, and 
 idle, and gentlemen whose chief duty it is to 
 help other people. Why we must go. If we 
 are going to sit and be rich and do nothing, we 
 shall be as bad as the worst aristocrats Esque- 
 besse and Dr. Charles ever talked of. Z^lie, 
 you know you think so too, and what's the good 
 of thinking unless you're going to do like your 
 thoughts?" 
 
 He spoke very slowly, and as the words fell 
 from his lips, many conversations, which I have 
 not repeated, came back, to my mind, conver- 
 sations with Dr. Charles and Esquebesse, in 
 which the drift had been always the same that 
 the duty of the gentleman was to work for 
 others. It was a favorite topic of talk with us, 
 and I had loved to hear about it, for it made me 
 feel proud to be a lady, but I had never thought
 
 2-jB HECTOR. 
 
 that to carry it out would bring one into posi- 
 tions like this. Indeed, I am not sure that I 
 ever thought much about carrying it out at all, 
 and now, instead of feeling that Hector's plan 
 was wicked, I began to feel as though he were a 
 stronger, and better, and wiser kind of creature 
 than I. It flashed through my mind that it was 
 by doing like their thoughts that men grew 
 great, and at the same time I felt that I never 
 should be great, for instead of wishing to do a 
 lady's duty I could only think of Grand'mere 
 going about with the same sad, quiet face she 
 had worn during the war, and taking blame to 
 herself, as I knew she would, that she had not 
 watched us more carefully. 
 
 " Hector ! " I faltered. But he would not help 
 me. He waited for me to decide. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot ! " I burst out at last ; " it 
 would be too cruel." 
 
 I expected him to scold me. I expected him 
 to try and persuade me still. But he did not. 
 There was a little pause, and then he said, in 
 the cold indifferent voice he used to speak in 
 when first he came to us : 
 
 " Very well. I shall go alone. And remem- 
 ber you are bound, at all events, by your promise ' 
 to Esquebesse, not to say anything about the
 
 HECTOR. 279 
 
 matter, nor to tell anyone where I am gone. 
 Only I shan't tell you any of my plans, because," 
 and he turned away rather contemptuously, "of 
 course I don't know now whether you'll keep 
 your promise to Esquebesse any better than 
 your promise to me." 
 
 For the first time I remembered my promise 
 to him on the hill. And he had not taken it 
 from me unawares ; he had warned me that if I 
 said "yes" it must be in earnest. Something 
 seemed to glue my lips together, I could not 
 speak. 
 
 " But I suppose," Hector continued, " that 
 you would like Irma to be helped if you don't 
 have to do anything disagreeable." 
 
 The slight emphasis he laid upon the " if " 
 stung, as I suppose he meant it to do. Yes, I 
 was like the women he had said he would hate. 
 I had said " yes " with my heart full of " ifs." I 
 was unfaithful. I was untrustworthy. He would 
 always hate me. And yet it didn't seem wicked 
 to think of Grand'mere too. My head spun with 
 a confusion of thought too strong for me. 
 
 "Hector," I could only say, "did you mean 
 then to go to Montfort?" 
 
 " Of course I did." 
 
 He seemed to be waiting still for my decision.
 
 280 HECTOR. 
 
 I had promised. He had trusted me. When he 
 had to decide between a lot of things right and 
 wrong, he chose one and stuck to it. I felt for 
 a moment like an utter fool, wavering about 
 from side to side, and then suddenly, I scarcely 
 know how, my resolution formed itself clear and 
 strong. I also would choose one right and stick 
 to it. 
 
 " I will keep my promise," I said ; " I will 
 do whatever you want." 
 
 " You won't change this time ? " he asked, but 
 the brilliant smile he gave me showed that he 
 knew I would not. 
 
 I had only time to shake my head when 
 Madelon appeared, out of breath and furious. 
 
 "What are you thinking of, then?" she ex- 
 claimed, at sight of us; "are you losing your 
 heads completely, idlers that you are. Here's a 
 quarter of an hour that the Sister has been wait- 
 ing for you in the dining-room, and I running 
 like a madwoman all over the farm to find you." 
 A vigorous shake to me concluded the sentence. 
 Trees, sky, and earth were mixed up before me 
 for a moment, and when I had recovered myself 
 sufficiently to feel sure that my head was still 
 upon my shoulders, the trees still rooted as usual 
 in the ground, and the sky at a safe distance
 
 HECTOTJ. 281 
 
 above us, Hector was swinging his legs upon a 
 chestnut branch above our heads. - 
 
 " No, no," he said to Madelon, " if you were 
 to shake me the way you have just shaken Zelie, 
 I shouldn't have a clear thought again for a 
 week, and I shall need all the powers of my 
 mind before I have done with Soeur Am61ie to- 
 day, for I've not learnt a single lesson, and she'll 
 give it to me, unless I can make them up fast 
 enough." Then, seized apparently with a sud- 
 den access of wild spirits, he began to give us, 
 on the chestnut branch, a representation of Soeur 
 Ame"lie upraiding him severely for his idleness, 
 and waxing more and more angry as she talked. 
 He imitated so well her cracked yet sweet voice, 
 he chose so exactly the expressions she used, he 
 agitated his legs in such a ridiculous way to rep- 
 resent her little flustered manner, that I gained 
 by my laughter a sounding box on the ear from 
 Madelon, who still held me tight. 
 
 " Ah, rascal ! " she shouted to Hector, " ha, 
 barefoot ! That is how you mock at people. It's 
 I who would whack you if I could lay my hands 
 on you." 
 
 "Calm yourself, dear sister," he replied, in 
 the tone of Sceur Amelie, " these rages are bad 
 for the soul."
 
 282 HECTOR. 
 
 But the words were no sooner out of his mouth 
 than he was seized with a burst of chuckling, 
 and, turning round to follow the direction of his 
 eyes; I saw Sceur Amelie herself standing at the 
 farther end of the path. 
 
 She had not heard anything, and Hector drop- 
 ped quietly from the tree. But as she advanced 
 towards us she began to reproach him in the 
 very terms he had been using. There was just 
 difference enough between her voice and the 
 voice he had assumed, to make the effect irre- 
 sistibly funny, and again my unfortunate inclina- 
 tion to laugh got the better of me. I shook 
 under Madelon's restraining hand, and this put 
 the finishing touch to her honest exasperation. 
 
 " Ah yes, ma Sceur," she exclaimed, " it is 
 time for you to come. They have neither heart 
 nor law, these children, and they are mocking 
 you as if you were the puppet of a travelling 
 dentist." 
 
 In an instant of course the picture flashed be- 
 fore our eyes of Soeur Amelie doing lay figure 
 to a quack dentist in the market-place, and it 
 was too much. Hector and I made no further 
 attempts to contain ourselves, but laughed until 
 the tears ran down our cheeks. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Sceur Ame"lie, all
 
 HECTOR. 28 j 
 
 ready to be offended. " What is the meaning 
 of this ? " 
 
 " Oh, ma Soeur ! " I explained, hastening to 
 appease her wrath ; " we beg your pardon, but 
 we were there in the mood to laugh and be silly, 
 and Madelon says something which finishes us 
 off. We did not know the time, or we would 
 have been waiting for you indoors." 
 
 " My remembrance of yesterday does not dis- 
 pose me to laughter," Sceur Amelie said, in the 
 tone of one who reserves his judgment; "but 
 we shall see in the house if the work done for me 
 justifies this merriment." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said Madelon, "it is I who would 
 justify their merriment for them. Taking me 
 out from my work like this, and Madame Lous- 
 tanoff away, consequently double to do in the 
 same time." . 
 
 Grand'me're had gone very early to a funeral 
 on the other side of Cassagne, and was to stay 
 and dine in the town. She would not, therefore, 
 return till late in the afternoon, and with the 
 burden of Hector's unlearnt lessons beginning 
 to lie heavy on my conscience, I was, for the 
 first time in my life, glad of her absence. 
 
 Hector was in one of his wild moods. Instead 
 of seeming depressed by the recollection of his
 
 284 II EC TOE. 
 
 work undone, he was in a condition of the high- 
 est spirits. His eyes were bright, his mouth 
 ready to curl into laughter on the smallest provo- 
 cation, his face, wreathed as it was with good- 
 humored smiles, seemed more than ever alive 
 with intelligence and resolution. Knowing well 
 the kind of scene which was likely to ensue when 
 Sceur Amelie discovered that he had done no 
 work for her, I trembled as we took our places 
 at the table, but Hector did not seem even then 
 to give his lessons a thought. 
 
 It was Soeur Amelie's habit always to hear 
 mine first, and if Hector would have busied him- 
 self looking over his, I could have stammered 
 and hesitated a little, and drawn out my repetition 
 till he had had time to gain at least some notion 
 of what he had to say. But, in spite of the kicks 
 I gave him under the table, he did not so much 
 as remember to find the places. He sat with 
 his books closed gazing out through the open 
 window, yet evidently seeing as little of what 
 went on outside as he heard of what was going 
 on inside. He was thinking, thinking hard, as 
 I could see by the brightness of his eyes, and 
 the firm set of his brow. I felt sure that he was 
 planning in his mind the details of our flight to 
 Montfort, and in the distraction caused by my
 
 SECTOR. 285 
 
 desire on his account to draw his attention to his 
 lessons, and my desire on my account to know 
 the result of his thoughts, I had very nearly, by 
 my manner of saying my lessons, drawn down 
 upon my own head the indignation I dreaded for 
 him. This did not dispose Soeur Ame*lie to in- 
 dulgence, and it was with her severest manner 
 that she turned presently to Hector. 
 
 " Eh, what ! My lessons ! " he exclaimed, 
 coming only half back to the present moment. 
 " Yes, of course ; where are my books ? " he 
 started up to look for them, and Soeur Ame*lie 
 asked him what he meant when they were 
 already on the table. 
 
 " What was it I had to say ? " he asked, as he 
 began to turn over the leaves. 
 
 " That is, surely, for you to know." 
 
 " But I don't know. I don't remember in the 
 least." 
 
 " You can't have learnt them very well in 
 such a case. Find the place." 
 
 Hector was evidently completely puzzled. 
 
 " But it is ridiculous to tell me to find a place 
 when I don't know what place to look for. I 
 don't remember a bit more what I had to learn 
 than if I had never seen one of these books." 
 
 "In laughing as you did at Madelon's inno-
 
 286 HECTOR. 
 
 cent remark, you have shown me enough for one 
 morning that you think me ridiculous. But I 
 am not so ridiculous as to be taken in by this 
 idle pretence. It is impossible for anyone to 
 learn a lesson and forget completely what it is 
 about. You will find the place yourself." 
 
 " But I didn't learn my lesson." 
 
 "Ah ! for once, this is too much ; to tell me 
 you have not learnt your lesson in order that 
 you may uphold your own obstinacy. Find the 
 place at once." 
 
 Hector wrinkled his brow, gazed at her with 
 the puzzled, almost idiotic, expression his face 
 could sometimes wear, and began without a word 
 to turn the pages aimlessly. Gradually his eyes 
 went towards the window, and, as they gazed 
 outwards, brightened again, the puzzled expres- 
 sion died away, and his countenance became, 
 once more a picture of eager resolution. But as 
 I began to hope that the returned brightness 
 meant awakening memory, and that he would be 
 able in a moment to remember where his lesson 
 was, I perceived that the book was dropping 
 from his listless hands. Another glance at his 
 face convinced me that his thoughts were far 
 away from Soeur Amelie and lessons. I longed 
 to recall him, yet feared to attract Soeur
 
 HECTOR. 287 
 
 lie's attention ; and, between the fascination 
 of watching Hector, and a wish to keep the Sis- 
 ter in a good humor by a show of determined 
 industry, my brain, never strong, was soon in a 
 pitiable condition. " Twice two are three," I 
 repeated, audibly and fervently; "twice four are 
 six, twice seven are twenty-one." I was work- 
 ing hard putting down the figures as fast as I 
 could say them, and, to my surprise, the slate 
 was snatched out of my hands, the whole sum 
 rubbed out, and I ordered to begin again. I 
 had not the slightest idea why ; and now tears 
 came to add to my mental confusion. It must 
 be confessed that we were very aggravating. 
 
 " Hector," said Sceur Amelie, at length ; " do 
 you intend to'do any lessons this morning, or do 
 you wish to convey to me, by your behaviour, 
 that my coming here is a farce, and that you are 
 in a state of open rebellion against the authority 
 Madame Loustanoff sets over you." 
 
 Hector did not hear the beginning of this 
 speech. Grand'mere's name awakened his atten- 
 tion, and he was evidently guessing at the sense 
 of the words, as he replied : 
 
 " I don't rebel against Grand'mere's author- 
 ity." 
 
 "But you are ready to rebel against mine,"
 
 288 HECTOR. 
 
 exclaimed Soeur Ame'lie. " Well, no ; it shall 
 not be. Because Madame Loustanoff is not 
 here you think you can do as you like. But I 
 will act ; I also. If you do not say those lessons 
 to me, and do what else you have to do before I 
 leave you, you shall go up to your own room, 
 and I will ask Madelon to watch that you do not 
 leave it till Madame Loustanoff returns." 
 
 Madelon hearing her own name, came to the 
 dining-room door, and her presence seemed to 
 aggravate Hector, for he replied with open 
 defiance : 
 
 " Madelon would have something to do- to 
 keep me in my room if I wanted to get out, for 
 she can't lock the window, and as soon as her 
 back is turned I would get down by the pine 
 tree. 
 
 "Yes, my lad," said Madelon; "but there is 
 no pine tree by the hayloft, and that, with the 
 Sister's permission, is where I will put you. 
 Then, with the ladder taken away) you may kick 
 your heels at your pleasure. You are caged till 
 Madame Loustanoff returns." 
 
 "Well, just try," said Hector; "I won't go up 
 of my own accord, and if you're strong enough 
 to carry me up, I'll jump out of one of the 
 granary wmdows."
 
 HECTOR. 289 
 
 " Ah, it's easy talking when we're on the solid 
 ground, but when we are up at a window, some 
 fourteen or fifteen feet above the ground, we 
 remember that legs and arms will break, and we 
 don't take these airy jumps. I'm ready, ma 
 Soeur ; I have good strong arms, and when you 
 need me, you have only to give me a call. It is 
 I who will have pleasure in locking up my little 
 gentleman." 
 
 Madelon returned to the scouring of her pots, 
 and Soeur Amelie reiterated her threat to Hector. 
 Hector now was no longer absent; he was 
 bitterly offended. 
 
 " I think it is a shame ! " he said, with flushed 
 cheeks, and something like tears of indignation 
 moistening his eyes. " I have told you quite 
 honestly that I forget what I had to learn. You 
 won't tell me what it is, and yet you say you 
 will lock me up if I don't learn it. How can I 
 do what is impossible ? " 
 
 "The only impossibility in the matter," Sceur 
 Amelie returned, " is that you can have forgot- 
 ten what you had to learn, and that subterfuge 
 shall not serve. I will not be taken in by it for 
 a moment. No; not even .so far as to tell you 
 again what lessons you had to learn." 
 
 " May I tell him, ma Soeur ? " I begged. " I
 
 290 HECTOR. 
 
 remember what they were, and he will learn 
 them in a minute once he knows." 
 
 But my interposition only increased Soeur 
 Amelie's anger. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Z61ie, and confine your- 
 self to doing your own work. If you, whom 
 they did not concern, can remember what they 
 were, it is another proof of the absurdity of 
 Hector's excuse. He has not forgotten them ; 
 I will not admit for an instant that he has 
 forgotten them." 
 
 " Then I am a liar ? " said Hector. 
 
 " Yes, you are a liar ; and lying is a mortal 
 sin." 
 
 " It's not true. I have forgotten my lessons. 
 I am telling you the exact truth, and I won't 
 submit to injustice. If I can help it, Madelon 
 sha'n't put me into the hayloft." 
 
 But he could not help it ; Madelon's arms 
 were strong, as she said, she did not scruple to 
 call in one of the farm laborers to help her; and, 
 at the end of lessons, Hector was carried, kick- 
 ing and struggling, into the hayloft. When he 
 was in, and the ladder taken away, he stood at 
 the open doorway straightening his clothes. 
 
 "Very well," he said to Sosur Amelia, who 
 with Madelon, and one or two of the laborers,
 
 HECTOR. 291 
 
 still stood in the yard below, " I shall not be 
 here when Grand'mere comes back, but she will 
 know your injustice some day, and I will never 
 learn lessons with you again while you go on 
 saying that I am a liar." 
 
 " They said he was a liar ? " I overheard one 
 of the laborers ask another, as everyone turned 
 to go their different ways. 
 
 " Yes, and he says no." 
 
 " It was for that he struggled so hard ? Ma 
 foi ! I would have done as much ; it is not 
 amusing to be shut up there with the rats for 
 something you have not done."
 
 292 HECTOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 T DO not think I have ever in my life felt so 
 lonely, and so miserable, and as I did on 
 that day, when, scarcely knowing what I did, 
 conscious only of a dull rage in my heart against 
 Sceur Amelie, against Madelon, against all the 
 world since Hector was punished, I went away 
 into the chestnut wood to hide myself and cry, 
 leaving Hector a prisoner in the loft. 
 
 Hector and I had built ourselves a little hut 
 of branches between the trees, and into that I 
 crept to bear my misery alone as best I could, 
 till Grand'mere should return. 
 
 It is no exaggeration to call it misery. I 
 shall never forget the suffering I endured. I 
 was always a nervous child, ready to torment 
 myself lest anything should happen to the people 
 I loved, and Madelon had no sooner shut the 
 hayloft door and bolted it on the outside with 
 the pitchfork, than pictures had begun to arise 
 in my mind of the terrible things which Hector
 
 HECTOR. 293 
 
 might do. I knew him well enough to know 
 how intolerable the thought of waiting there for 
 Grand'mere would be to his proud spirit, and I 
 believed him capable of any desperate deed. He 
 might burst his heart, I thought, in trying to 
 break down the door, or he might hang himself, 
 or he might smother himself in one of the heaps 
 of grain, or, failing any of these things, he 
 might very likely faint with the fatigue and 
 emotion he had gone through, and with what 
 would have been to me the terror of being shut 
 up there alone in the dark with the big rats, and 
 then there would be no one to help him, he 
 might die in his faint. This was the idea which 
 at last took possession of me. It was in vain 
 that I tried to drive it away, that I tried to 
 reason with myself. I shut my eyes and would 
 have forced my thoughts to something else I 
 could only see as vividly as if it were reality, 
 Hector lying on the floor of the hayloft, stiff 
 and white, with the rats sniffing at him, and 
 running over his body, and the impossibility of 
 reaching him became an agony. I don't know 
 how long I had been there ; I was lying on the 
 floor of the hut, not crying, but in a state of still 
 pain, in which every minute that went by was 
 hard to bear, when the sound of footsteps
 
 294 HECTOR. 
 
 attracted my attention. The next moment 
 Hector himself stood on the threshold. Hec- 
 tor himself, as cool and unconcerned as usual. 
 
 "Oh, Zelie!" he said, "you here? that is 
 jolly! now you'll be able to get me some 
 dinner." 
 
 His voice brought me in some measure back 
 to myself. 
 
 " They have let you out ? " I managed to ask. 
 
 "They haven't let me out; I jumped out at 
 the back through one of the granary windows 
 it's quite easy. But it's past twelve, and dinner 4 
 looked to me quite ready when I peeped through 
 the chinks of the hayloft door. You'd better 
 go down to the house. Only look here ! isn't 
 this a queer little beetle ; I picked it off the 
 ground just now as I was coming up." 
 
 He stretched out to me a hand which he had 
 till now kept closed, and on the palm I saw a 
 beetle somewhat different from any we had yet 
 found in the woods. 
 
 It gave me a strange indefinable feeling of 
 respect for him to think that while I had been 
 lying on the ground incapable, in that causeless 
 agony of apprehension, he with everything to do 
 had been cool enough to observe a strange beetle 
 on his path. I took hold of the tips of his finger
 
 HECTOR. 295 
 
 and leaned over to look at the insect ; but sud- 
 denly the hand and the beetle became blurred 
 beneath my eyes. I bent my head lower that 
 Hector might not see, and before I could help it 
 tears were dropping upon his palm. 
 
 "Why, Zelie," he said, "what's the matter?" 
 And, as I raised my face, and he looked for the 
 first time attentively at me. " You have been 
 crying a wholelot before, too ! Have they been 
 doing anything to you ? " 
 
 "No," I said, "no!" 
 
 " Why have you been crying then ? " 
 
 " It was for you." 
 
 " For me ? Do you really care about me, 
 Zelie?" 
 
 His voice softened so suddenly that I gave 
 him a hearty hug. He for the first time hugged 
 me too ; and after that we both found ourselves 
 laughing. 
 
 I felt so happy, then, that nothing seemed to 
 me to matter. It was without a scrap of fear, 
 rather with joy, at the prospect of braving an 
 adventure for Hector's sake, that I ran away 
 presently to dine myself, and bring him back the 
 materials for a meal. 
 
 As Madelon and I were alone, our dinner did 
 not take long. I had a moment of anxiety
 
 296 HECTOR. 
 
 when, after we had finished, she took a piece of 
 bread and a bowl of soup, and mounted the lad- 
 der to the hayloft. But she did not go in. She 
 contented herself with setting the bowl down 
 just inside the door and quietly drew the bolt 
 again, as if afraid that Hector might recommence 
 the fight. I, for all my anxiety, took care to 
 profit by her absence to secure some of the salt 
 goose we had been eating, and some bread and 
 cheese, and a few minutes later I arrived in 
 safety at the hut with a well-filled basket in my 
 hands. I had passed round by fowl-house and 
 garden and vineyard, where eggs and salad and 
 grapes had been added to the spoil I brought 
 from the house, and Hector welcomed all with 
 glee. It was the work of two or three minutes 
 to kindle a fire of dry sticks in the hut. I knew 
 quite enough about cookery to be able to pre- 
 pare a simple meal, and I had soon the pride and 
 delight of seeing Hector beam with satisfaction 
 over an omelette which he held in a painfully 
 hot plate upon his knees. His only seat was a 
 bundle of sticks, table there was none, one plate 
 constituted the entire dinner service, but his 
 appetite seemed limitless ; he ate heartily of 
 everything I had brought, and, as his spirits 
 rose to rollicking pitch, with the satisfaction of
 
 HECTOR. *97 
 
 his hunger, mine too rose so high that if I had 
 had a wish, it would have been that it might be 
 supper time, and he hungry again to give me 
 again the joy of feeding him. This was the first 
 time I had had an opportunity of really serving 
 him ; I had been able to do it well. He was 
 satisfied with me ; I can understand still that I 
 was happy. 
 
 It was a good beginning to our journey to 
 Montfort. When Hector presently told me to 
 gather up what scraps remained, as we did not 
 know where we might sup that night, I remem- 
 bered, in spite of the pain at my heart his words 
 awaked, that Grand'mere had herself said, 
 "Where one goes the other must go," and I 
 was glad to think that whatever happened I 
 should be with him. The steadiness of his reso- 
 lution served me for resolution, and my scruples 
 ceased to torment me. Possibly he was mis- 
 taken in going ; but since he went, my duty was 
 clearly enough to stick to him. I don't quite 
 know why the act of getting his dinner for him 
 should have made this plain in my mind, but it 
 did, and I worried him with no remonstrance 
 when he announced that we should not return 
 to the house again. I only felt as if somebody 
 had taken hold of my heart, and squeezed it 
 tight and hard.
 
 *9 8 HECTOR. 
 
 Pierre was the only person to whom we said 
 any kind of good-bye. 
 
 It was necessary to get Hector's money from 
 him, and he was evidently surprised that we 
 should ask for all three napoleons at once, when 
 they had lain so long unthought of in his 
 keeping. 
 
 " I hope I am right to give them to you," he 
 said, " without asking your grandmother. You 
 are not going to do any folly with them, hein ! " 
 
 " I shall spend them as a gentleman should," 
 Hector replied. 
 
 " Ah; my proud little monsieur ! you will have 
 no questions from an old blacksmith ; but if the 
 old blacksmith loves you " 
 
 " And if I love the old blacksmith," Hector 
 said, holding out his hand with one of his beau- 
 tiful bright smiles, " it doesn't follow that I tell 
 him everything I am going to do. When people 
 love each other they trust each other." 
 
 Pierre took Hector's hand and shook it 
 heartily. 
 
 " You are right, my lad, you are right," he 
 said; "I should not have been afraid." 
 
 And with that we went away. 
 
 I had asked no question yet about how we 
 were to reach Montfort. But presently Hector
 
 II EC TOR. 299 
 
 turned to me and asked, with the gentle, kindly 
 manner he had assumed since the morning, 
 whether I did not want to know his plan, " or 
 perhaps," he said, "you think it's so horrid of 
 me to go, that you don't care how we are going 
 to do it ? " 
 
 From that moment I would not have turned 
 back for all the world ; and I answered from the 
 bottom of my heart that it was I who would be 
 horrid if I did not wish to know his plan. 
 
 " It is rather funny," he said, with brighten- 
 ing eyes ; " come along, I won't tell you, but I'.M 
 show you something." 
 
 He burst into one of his happy chuckles as he 
 spoke, and held out his hand to me. We jump- 
 ed over the ditch together, and then I raced 
 after him, where he led me through the woods 
 and down to the river side till we came out oppo- 
 site to the mill yard, where the miller and Marie 
 Anna were loading a wagon with straw. 
 
 " Well," I said, breathless and laughing, " is 
 it to admire the miller that you have brought me 
 here ? I see nothing." 
 
 " It is to admire our carriage and our coach- 
 man." 
 
 And Hector turned a somersault in now unre- 
 pressed delight.
 
 300 HECTOR. 
 
 " M. Baptiste himself shall drive us to Mont- 
 fort, where he goes to arrange all concerning 
 his marriage. He takes the wagon, I know, 
 half-way, and we shall travel in the straw as 
 comfortably as kings in a coach. The other half 
 of the journey we must manage for ourselves." 
 
 " But, Hector ! he will never consent ! " 
 
 " I should rather think he wouldn't consent if 
 anyone was such a fool as to ask him. But we 
 will climb up there as soon as it is dark, and sleep 
 on the top of the load. Long before daylight he 
 starts, and as he is much too fat even to think of 
 climbing up himself, he'll walk before us more 
 than half-way to Montfort without a suspicion 
 that two little serpents have slipped into his 
 straw. Don't you see him, red and consequen- 
 tial, telling everyone he meets that he has 
 business at Montfort ? " 
 
 It was funny to think of, and we had a hearty 
 laugh together as we walked down into the mill- 
 yard to find out one or two things which Hector 
 still wanted to know about the journey. 
 
 My breath came and went uncomfortably fast 
 while, as .we watched the loading of the cart, 
 Hector asked point-blank in his usual cool and 
 simple fashion for all the information we wanted, 
 but I suppose the miller thought it was quite
 
 HECTOR. 301 
 
 natural that what was interesting to him should 
 be interesting to us, for he did not seem in the 
 least surprised by Hector's questions, and told 
 us every detail we wished to know. A little inn 
 called the " Cruchon d'Or," at the branching of 
 the Montfort road towards Portalouve, would be 
 his last stopping-place, for the house at which 
 he was going to leave the straw lay out of the 
 direct road, and when he had delivered the straw 
 and put up his own horses, he meant to continue 
 his road in the public diligence. 
 
 It was still early in the afternoon when we 
 left him, and the hours seemed terribly long till 
 evening, but Hector was so gentle and loving to 
 me that afternoon that I was not nearly so 
 unhappy as I should have expected to be. We 
 took the precaution first of filling our basket 
 with chestnuts and grapes, so that we might not 
 starve up on the straw; and then I believe 
 Hector tried to keep me amused and occupied 
 in order that I might not think too much of 
 Grand'mere. We visited together all our favorite 
 haunts, and there was only one moment when 
 the pain of going seemed almost more than I 
 could bear. It was when, after the sun went 
 down, Hector called for the last time an assem- 
 bly of the little birds.
 
 302 HECTOR. 
 
 They came as usual in answer to his cries, 
 wrens and robins, jays and thrushes, larks, 
 chaffinches, and blackbirds ; though I had been 
 with him on many bird r calling expeditions, I 
 had never known them come more quickly or in 
 greater numbers, and on any ordinary occasion 
 it would have been with delight, even greater 
 than his, that I should have welcomed them. 
 But on this day each fresh bird that came 
 seemed to me another voice from the woods and 
 from our old life saying good-bye to us, and 
 when I thought of how happy we had been, I 
 could hardly keep myself from sobbing by 
 Hector's side. Even now, when I feel at all 
 inclined to be sad, the evening clamor of birds 
 always brings the tears to my eyes. 
 
 I managed to control myself, because I did 
 not want Hector to think his plan made me 
 unhappy, and when the birds had gone again, 
 the silence and darkness of night had fallen 
 upon the woods, and our time of waiting was 
 over. Half-an-hour later we were composing 
 ourselves to sleep on top of the miller's loaded 
 wagon, and the last thing I remember of that 
 night is feeling Hector pull the straw round me 
 to keep me warm.
 
 HECTOR. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 \\ 7"HEN I woke again we were already out 
 upon the high road. Morning had 
 scarcely come, for all around us was yet dark, 
 and the birds in the trees by the roadside were 
 only just beginning to wake. But, away to the 
 east, there was a clear soft light in the sky, and 
 when the freshness of the air had fully waked 
 me, I could easily distinguish Hector sitting up 
 in his shirt-sleeves, watching the dawn. His 
 jacket was tucked round me. I made him put it 
 on again, and then he lay down at my side. It 
 was too early for me to wake up, he said, and to 
 please him I remained still as if I were asleep. 
 In reality, the thought of Grand'mere waking, 
 too, as I knew she would, with the earliest dawn, 
 to think of us anxiously, came to me the instant 
 I was awake, and after that, sleep was impossi- 
 ble. I lay with eyes wide open in the darkness, 
 thinking of her. Yet, even then, as I listened 
 to Hector's quiet breathing, and pictured the
 
 304 HECTOR. 
 
 dangers of the road, I was glad that I had not 
 let him come alone. 
 
 The straw on which we lay was piled so high 
 and wide that, as the cart jolted slowly on, it 
 often brushed the branches of the trees on either 
 side of the road, and, amidst showers of dew, 
 startled birds flew out from time to time, fanning 
 our faces with their wings as they passed through 
 the keen air. We, moving along in our nest so 
 high up, felt ourselves to be amongst them, and 
 the strangeness of driving between the tree 
 branches at that dark, quiet hour, with no com- 
 panions but the awakening birds, combined with 
 our thoughts to keep us both still and silent. 
 Twice, at long intervals, Hector asked me in a 
 low voice if I felt frightened, and when the 
 second time I whispered back that I was not 
 going to be frightened at all with him, he 
 seemed satisfied, and we said nothing more till 
 the mountain tops flamed with light, and all the 
 country began to wake. Then, as the birds, no 
 longer startled, flew out on every side in search 
 of breakfast, and trees and hedges seemed alive 
 with chirp and chatter and shrill song, as dogs 
 in all the m^tairies began to bark, and oxen 
 brought out to labor lowed gravely in the morn- 
 ing air, as the sound of human voices came from
 
 HECTOR. 305 
 
 the fields, and the sun spreading bright, lit up 
 the dewy vines and grasses far and wide, Hector 
 and I woke fully too, and discovered that, fike 
 the birds, we wanted breakfast. Like them, we 
 had to content ourselves with grapes and chest- 
 nuts, for my basket held nothing else ; but we 
 were not disposed to grumble, for, in the agita- 
 tion of our grave adventure, breakfast seemed to 
 both of us too small a trifle to be considered. 
 
 We chatted a little while we ate, but we dared 
 not raise our voices, for fear the sound might 
 be heard above the rattle of the wagon-wheels, 
 and we soon sank back into silence and the 
 companionship of our own thoughts. We could 
 not see the miller, and the fun we had antici- 
 pated in making him drive us unawares to 
 Montfort was forgotten. Hector's thoughts 
 were evidently concentrated on future plans, 
 and I sat beside him looking back. The country 
 was glorious in russet and crimson and gold, 
 and the deep blue of the autumn sky spread 
 tranquil above the mountains, but, with vision of 
 the heart more penetrating than bodily eyes, I 
 saw, through all the beauty, only Grand'mere 
 lonely ; and the pain and pleasure of that morn- 
 ing journey were so keenly mixed, that the 
 inward excitement alone remains in my memory. 
 20
 
 306 HECTOR. 
 
 I have no recollection of any external incidents 
 or details till, when the sun was almost directly 
 above our heads, Hector woke me from my 
 thoughts by the information that we were within 
 a kilometre of the " Cruchon d'Or." From that 
 time I remember everything quite distinctly. 
 
 We got down from the cart by means of a 
 hanging end of straw rope which Hector twisted 
 and made fast, and we timed our descent in 
 such a way that almost as our feet touched the 
 ground, Baptiste urged his horses round the cor- 
 ner to the inn. We were thus left standing on 
 the road alone. We were on a little hill. We 
 could see the white line lying straight for miles 
 across the country. 
 
 " This is the way to Montfort," said Hector ; 
 "Come!" 
 
 And we began to walk. Even the miller 
 seemed to me like an old friend as we left him 
 behind. We were both exceedingly hungry, but 
 as we did not dare to ask for anything to eat at 
 an inn where the miller might very probably 
 stop and dine, the first thing to be done was to 
 walk on to another inn. We had come away, of 
 course, in the everyday clothes we wore about 
 the farm. I, in my blue pinafore, bare-headed ; 
 Hector wearing the common " berret" of the
 
 HECTOR. 307 
 
 country which Grand'mere had bought for him 
 when his English hat wore out. We looked, 
 therefore, like two little peasants, and we had no 
 fear of being remarked, but for still further pre- 
 caution we resolved to speak nothing but patois 
 on the road. The second inn was a long way 
 off. We had already walked for several kiloma 
 tres, and I was beginning to feel faint and sick 
 with hunger and the heat of the sun upon my 
 head, when we were overtaken by an old man 
 leading a donkey laden with panniers full of 
 grapes. 
 
 He was a respectable looking man, dressed in 
 a clean, though faded blouse, and his long white 
 hair floated on his shoulders like that of Jeanti 
 St. Loubouet, so, as I spoke patois better than 
 Hector, I asked him, without fear, if he would 
 sell us two bunches of his grapes. 
 
 He said no, that they were for the soldiers, 
 and that they were too dear for us, half a franc 
 a bunch. 
 
 It was a shameful price, and we had no hesita- 
 tion in telling him so ; but that was on the sol- 
 diers' account. So far as we ourselves were 
 concerned, we wanted them too badly to care 
 what the price was. Hector pulled out one of 
 his napoleons, and the old man's manner in- 
 stantly changed.
 
 308 HECTOR. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he. " If that is how it is, you arc 
 among those who choose. Take which bunch 
 you like, and, since we are going the same road, 
 you had better journey on with me, till we meet 
 the soldiers. I have no change to give you now, 
 but when I have sold my grapes, I shall be full 
 of money." 
 
 We thought him very avaricious, but it is the 
 common fault of our peasants to be too fond of 
 money, and we were not sorry to have some one 
 to show us the way in a country which was now 
 quite unknown to us. So we agreed readily 
 enough to his proposition, and he relieved my 
 tired feet by putting me up on the donkey to 
 ride between the panniers. He insisted also 
 that Hector should keep his napoleon till we met 
 with the soldiers, and as Hector dropped it back 
 into the loose trouser pocket from which it came, 
 he gave us much good advice on the necessity 
 of taking care of money when we had it. 
 
 Hector, never fond of. good advice, trudged on 
 sturdily in the dust before us, but the old man, 
 leading the donkey, walked by my side, and I 
 had to listen, whether I liked it or not, to his 
 conversation. The result of it was to terrify me 
 very effectually. It seemed that an attempt had 
 been made the night before to murder two child-
 
 HECTOR. 309 
 
 ren on the road to Dax ; children, the old man 
 told me, who were not much bigger than Hector 
 and me. He wanted to know if we had heard 
 anything of it, and when I told him that we had 
 not, he said that he knew none of the details, he 
 only repeated what he had heard that morning 
 in the inn. But the mention of the story led to 
 talk about other dreadful things, and while my 
 blood ran cold, and I sat trembling from head to 
 foot, he told me one horrible story after another 
 of robbery and murder. I was so fascinated that 
 I could not ask him to stop, and yet while he 
 talked I became conscious of a growing repul- 
 sion from him which made me long to reach the 
 place where our journey together was to end. 
 
 At last, to my joy, we came within sight of a 
 field by the roadside, where, round little pyra- 
 mids of stacked muskets, some hundreds of 
 soldiers were sitting, or lying, or standing about 
 in groups. 
 
 It was the hottest hour of the afternoon. 
 There was no shade in the field, and the sun 
 poured down upon the gaudy uniforms and glit- 
 tering musket-barrels till the stubble, amidst 
 which the soldiers lay, seemed almost ablaze 
 with color and light. But in our very short ac- 
 quaintance with soldiers, Hector and I had
 
 310 HECTOR. 
 
 already learned too much of their daily suffer- 
 ings to take pleasure in the brilliant effect, and 
 when we reached them we found what we had 
 expected. They had been marching for hours 
 in the heat and the dust. Their rations had 
 gone, by mistake, to some other part of the 
 country, and now, instead of being drawn up to 
 rest by a spring in one of the many woods which 
 clothed our hills, they were halting for an hour 
 in the burning sun at a distance of more than 
 half a kilometre from any water. Some lads 
 from the nearest village were bringing water, 
 and one barrel of wine the whole contents of 
 the village inn had been sent out, but that was 
 like nothing amongst so many, and the instant 
 our grapes were seen we were surrounded with 
 a rush which promised well for our old man's 
 hopes of making money. Even those officers 
 who were near pressed up to us with the eager- 
 ness of schoolboys, and hands were thrust out 
 on all sides to seize the fruit ; but when our 
 guide announced the price of his merchandise, 
 there was something like a wail of indignation 
 from the men. Not one in twenty there proba- 
 bly possessed half a franc. The hands so eagerly 
 stretched out dropped back empty. Haggard 
 faces, lit joyously a moment before by the hope
 
 HECTOR. 311 
 
 of easing their torment of thirst, turned away 
 more haggard. The parched throats and swol- 
 len lips could hardly frame the husky cry of 
 " shame, shame ! " which, faintly uttered by so 
 many men, seemed to me the bitterest reproach 
 I had ever heard ; and yet, almost savagely, the 
 few who could pay elbowed their way through 
 the crowd who could not, and they were still so 
 many as to give our old man as much as he could 
 do to serve them. 
 
 Hector could not bear it. He jumped up 
 beside me on the donkey. 
 
 "Why do you not make him sell them cheap- 
 er ! " he cried, commanding attention at once by 
 the energy of his voice and gesture. " If nobody 
 would buy, he must sell at your own price." 
 
 There was a generous movement through the 
 crowd. 
 
 " He is right. Let us make an effort," cried 
 a voice we recognized, and Sergeant Martin La- 
 motte set the example of throwing back into the 
 donkey's pannier the bunch of grapes he had 
 scarcely tasted. More swiftly than I can de- 
 scribe it the example was followed. A boyish- 
 faced lieutenant of artillery, who had just secured 
 two bunches, stopped in the act of raising a 
 handful of berries to his black and swollen lips,
 
 3^2 HECTOR. 
 
 and flung back the fruit untasted with a cry of 
 " Well done, sergeant ! " Officers and men fol- 
 lowed him. With one accord the crowd denied 
 itself, and bunch after bunch fell into the don- 
 key's baskets. There was a moment when 
 Hector and I and the old man saw ourselves left 
 alone with the grapes in the midst of a circle 
 which withdrew from us, and a clamor arose of 
 " Give us back our money, or else sell at half 
 the price." 
 
 There was nothing for it but surrender, and 
 the old man agreed at once. 
 
 " At half price ! " he cried, holding up a 
 bunch in either hand, and in an instant the 
 crowd was round us again. But as he turned to 
 take the grapes from the pannier, I surprised a 
 glance thrown from him to Hector which made 
 me shudder from head to foot. 
 
 " Oh, come away," I whispered, " I am sure 
 that man is wicked ; " and scarcely knowing 
 what I did, I dragged Hector to the outskirts of 
 the crowd. 
 
 There, notwithstanding the reduced price of 
 the grapes, men were still standing who could 
 only look on in silence with hungry eyes and 
 hands thrust deep into pockets where not one 
 sou was to be found.
 
 IlECTOE. 313 
 
 "We could spare one napoleon, couldn't we, 
 Zelie ? " Hector asked ; and he put his hand into 
 his pocket to draw it out. 
 
 The next instant a blank look overspread his 
 countenance. A deep blush succeeded it ; he 
 knelt down on the stubble to turn out his 
 pockets. The Aviceptologie, from which since 
 Grand'mere had given it to him for his own he 
 was never separated, a dirty handkerchief, some 
 wire, and some bits of wood were the sole con- 
 tents, and after a hasty inspection of these 
 objects he looked up at me with the blush still 
 spreading, and penitence marked in every line 
 of his face. 
 
 " Zelie, I have lost them all." 
 
 I was so overwhelmed that for an instant I 
 could not speak. The soldiers round us asked 
 if anything was the matter. Hector began to 
 accuse himself : " I have brought .ier from 
 home, and I have lost all " and then I found 
 my voice. 
 
 " No, he has not lost," I said. " We have 
 been robbed, and I am convinced that old man 
 is the robber. Three napoleons. We had them 
 safe when we met him this morning." 
 
 I had little imagined the effect of my words. 
 The old man was already out of favor, and my 
 accusation was instant
 
 3*4 HECTOR. 
 
 " Robber ! robber ! seize him ! search him ! " 
 was repeated from mouth to mouth. Not more 
 than two or three knew what was the matter, 
 but each member of the crowd seemed to take a 
 personal pleasure in the punishment of the 
 grape-seller. The excitement spread. Those 
 from behind pressed on those that were in front. 
 " Assassin " was soon added to the other epi- 
 thets. " Hold him ! secure him ! " was shouted 
 on all sides. A scuffle of some sort took place. 
 A cry like a prolonged "Ah ! " rang through the 
 crowd, and when a soldier near us snatched me 
 up in his arms that I might see, the sight which 
 met my astonished eyes was no longer the 
 white-haired old man in the spotless and neatly 
 mended blouse, but our well-known tramp, still 
 struggling, ragged and dirty, in the hands of the 
 soldiers who had rolled him on the ground. His 
 white wig lay at his feet. "One of the white 
 eyebrows had fallen off, the other still remained 
 in its place. He had shaved his chin since we 
 had last seen him, but in spite of all there was 
 no mistaking him now. I understood why the 
 glance he had given Hector had filled me with 
 terror. 
 
 Everything happened so quickly that I 
 scarcely knew how it came about. There was
 
 HECTOR. 315 
 
 a great confusion ; officers from other parts 
 came up. In another moment two gendarmes 
 had made their appearance ; the tramp's elbows 
 were bound behind him. I heard the gendarmes 
 reply in answer to some excited explanations : 
 "Ah! it's for something graver than picking a 
 little boy's pocket that we want him," and the 
 tramp, who seemed utterly cowed, whined out, 
 " They are not dead, therefore it's not murder." 
 And then, as the tramp was being mounted on 
 his own donkey to be led away, Hector plucked 
 my sleeve and whispered, " Zelie, let us run 
 before they pay attention to us." 
 
 It was not a minute too soon. We were only 
 just on the other side of the hedge when we 
 heard a cry raised of " The children," and, while 
 the soldiers were looking for us in the field, we 
 ran with all our speed along trie ditch, and found 
 shelter under the bushes of a little wood. 
 
 We watched the tramp and his escort move 
 away. We saw the soldiers come out after a 
 time, and march in the opposite direction ; and 
 then, when all was quiet and we were left alone, 
 Hector turned to me and took both my hands 
 in his. 
 
 " Here we are, Zelie," he said, " without any 
 money, and I know that you are hungry ; but I
 
 316 HECTOR. 
 
 will get you something to eat somehow, if you 
 can hold out a little longer. And you wouldn't 
 like to turn back now, would you, just because 
 of wickedness ? " 
 
 There was a strange gentleness in his voice, 
 as though he thought he had got me into trouble, 
 and was sorry for it. But less than ever then 
 should I have liked to turn back, and I told 
 him so. 
 
 It cannot be denied that we did feel very 
 hungry and tired and footsore, as we trudged 
 through the remaining hours of the afternoon 
 along the dusty high road. We had gone out of 
 our way to the soldiers. We had little or no 
 hope of reaching Montfort that night, and unless 
 we arrived there, we had no idea where we 
 should sleep, or eat, or how we should rest 
 ourselves. We were so tired that we walked, I 
 think, very slowly, and it was well we did. 
 Towards nightfall we asked in a village we 
 passed through how far it was to Montfort, and 
 we were told that we had been coming the wrong 
 way. We were as far from Montfort still as 
 when we started from the soldier's field. 
 
 It was a terrible disappointment. I could not 
 see Hector's face, and there was a moment of 
 dead silence in the darkness. Then I heard
 
 HECTOR. 317 
 
 Hector's voice shake, and, abandoning the oatois 
 he had hitherto used, he said in French, and 
 with the indescribable dignity which caused the 
 people round Salaret to call him the little 
 English milord : 
 
 "Will you have the kindness to give Made- 
 moiselle a cup of milk and a piece of bread ? 1 
 have no money to repay you, but we have lost 
 our way, and she is both hungry and tired." 
 
 The woman he addressed had spoken to him 
 before as to a little peasant. Now she perceived 
 her mistake, and perhaps she also heard the 
 quiver in his voice, for she answered cordially, 
 and brought us food at once out to the door. 
 
 My -hunger had, by this time, become such a 
 craving that the cup of milk she gave me was 
 drained almost as soon as my lips had touched 
 the brim. What was my disappointment then 
 to hear Hector say, as she offered some in turn 
 to him : 
 
 " No, thank you, I am not hungry." 
 
 I knew well why it was.' He would beg for 
 me he would not beg for himself. I had no 
 pride. I accepted gratefully the generous slice 
 the woman cut from her corn loaf, and hid a 
 large half under the napkin, which was all that 
 remained in our little basket. We could not
 
 318 HECTOR. 
 
 hope now to sleep at Montfort, so, at the risk of 
 being taken up for trespassers, we crept into the 
 first wood we reached, and, by the pale light of 
 the stars, we made a bed of dried bracken and 
 leaves, in which we very gladly laid our tired 
 limbs. Then I, who had been watching my 
 Opportunity, ventured : 
 
 " You must be dreadfully hungry, Hector." 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 " Look once more if there isn't a bit of bread 
 hidden in the folds of the napkin. The idea 
 comes to me that we didn't shake the napkin 
 when we looked this morning." 
 
 I did my very best to makemy voice suffi- 
 ciently hopeless, but my heart thumped against 
 my side, till Hector's joyous cry announced at 
 once the success of my stratagem and the ex- 
 tremity of his hunger. 
 
 " Oh, Ze"lie, such a jolly big bit ! Won't you 
 have some ? " 
 
 If he had not been so hungry he would not 
 have been deceived, "for, though the bread was 
 stale, it was not like bread which had been cut 
 the day before. As it was, he suspected noth- 
 ing, but lay and munched it by my side, with 
 such comic expressions of delight, that I, for 
 very happiness, fell asleep as soon as the last
 
 HECTOR. 319 
 
 mouthful had been disposed of ; and to this day 
 he does not know that he ever ate bread which 
 had been begged. 
 
 The night was fortunately fine, and we had 
 given ourselves such a plentiful covering of 
 bracken, that though the woods were sparkling 
 in dew when we awoke, we found ourselves 
 warm and dry, and much refreshed by ten hours 
 of comfortable sleep. 
 
 As we were preparing to leave our bed, we 
 were startled by the barking of a keeper's dog. 
 There was no time to get away, and Hector 
 would not even attempt it. When the keeper 
 came up, Hector told all that was needful to tel] 
 of our story. We had tried to walk from the 
 " Cruchon d'Or" to Montfort, we had lost our 
 money and missed the way, and having nowhere 
 else to sleep, we had crept into the wood. 
 Would he tell us the way we ought to go ? In 
 our crushed and dirty clothes we looked shabby 
 and poverty stricken, and Hector did not now 
 speak French. The keeper evidently took us 
 for two little vagrants, and said somewhat sharp- 
 ly that our parents would do better to keep us 
 at home than to send us out to seek for an exist- 
 ence on the high roads. 
 
 "Nevertheless," he added, "if you are good
 
 320 HECTOR. 
 
 for anything, you will be glad to earn your din- 
 ner by a little honest work. They have begun 
 the vintage to-day in that farm up on the hill. 
 They are short of hands, and, if you say I sent 
 you, they will give you a day's work, and a 
 dinner at the end of it." 
 
 The eagerness with which Hector accepted 
 his offer cut short some mutterings about the 
 lock-up being the proper place for us, and with 
 the joyful prospect of dinner before our ejes, we 
 were soon in the vineyard he had pointed out. 
 But to work for our bread was, as we soon found, 
 a different matter to running down for amuse- 
 ment, as we did at home, to help the reapers, 
 while the inclination lasted. Five hours' toil in 
 the full blaze of the a'utumn sun had almost ex- 
 hausted us before the hour came to serve out 
 the onion soup and bread. I felt too sick to 
 taste it when it was given to us. Hector, tired as 
 he was, was hungry still, and when he had made 
 a hearty meal, felt so much refreshed, that he 
 declared himself ready to run, if necessary, the 
 whole way to Montfort, but I thought with dis- 
 may of the long stretch of road, and scarcely 
 knew how I should force my feet to move. In- 
 deed, we soon found that it was impossible for 
 me to go further without rest. Though I tried
 
 HECTOR. 321 
 
 hard to be as strong as Hector, my head began 
 to spin, and my feet refused their office. In- 
 stead of walking I was presently staggering 
 from side to side of the road, and we agreed that 
 the only thing to be done was to give up for the 
 present, and lie down again in a wood to rest. 
 
 Nothing could have been tenderer than Hec- 
 tor was to me. He gathered leaves and bracken 
 to make me a bed, and when he saw me crying 
 for disappointment to find myself thus a hin- 
 drance to him in his undertaking, he comforted 
 me gently, and said that .anyhow I was as brave 
 as a boy, and that he would never say again girls 
 could not keep their promises. So, with my 
 hand in his, I fell asleep, and when I woke, I 
 found that he had been back to the farm and got 
 a piece of bread and some grapes for me instead 
 of the dinner I had rejected. When I sat up, 
 refreshed by sleep, ready and glad to eat some- 
 thing, he looked on with great relief. He had 
 thought I was going to be ill, but nothing was 
 the matter with me except fatigue and hunger, 
 and now, having rested and eaten, I found my- 
 self to my delight quite ready to go on again. 
 
 Unfortunately it was late in the afternoon, 
 and, night found us still a long way from Mont- 
 fort. We slept again in a hospitable wood, and
 
 322 HECTOR. 
 
 breakfasted, as we had supped the night before, 
 on a drink of water from a delicious spring, but 
 towards midday I began to feel faint and ill, as 
 on the previous afternoon. 
 
 We had to pass through a little town, and the 
 sight of the fruit and bread set out in the shop 
 windows made me giddy. 
 
 The expression on Hector's face helped me to 
 recover myself. 
 
 " Do you feel starved, Zelie ? " he asked anx- 
 iously, and at the same time he threw such a 
 glance of despair upon the shops as I know no 
 suffering of his own would ever have drawn 
 from him. 
 
 "No, oh, no!" I said; "I think I'm just a 
 little thirsty." 
 
 We were close by the fountain, and when I 
 had drunk the cup of water Hector filled for me, 
 and bathed my face, and rested for a little while, 
 I was able by the help of Hector's arm to go on 
 again. Once outside the town we thought we 
 might find a sheltered place in which I could 
 sleep, as I had done the day before. 
 
 It was the general dinner hour, and the streets 
 were almost empty. No one noticed us but an 
 old woman who was selling roast chestnuts at 
 the corner of the street, and, as I lingered a mo-
 
 HECTOR. 323 
 
 ment in the delicious smell, she thrust a handful 
 of her wares almost into my face. I was, I sup- 
 pose, half stupid, for I thought she meant to 
 give them to us, and put my hand out eagerly 
 to receive them. At the same moment she 
 screamed, in a sharp, strident voice, "A sou 
 for six," and Hector, drawing me on, dashed her 
 hand roughly on one side. She cast after him 
 an objurgation on his want of manners. I saw 
 that his face was red, and, for the first and only 
 time during our journey, tears were trembling 
 on his eyelashes. 
 
 When we had reached a place where I could 
 rest, he made me as comfortable as he could, and 
 then he left me, saying that he would bring me 
 something to eat somehow. I was too languid to 
 think or to ask any questions. I fell into a kind 
 of dose, which was half sleep, half stupor, and 
 I was dreaming of hot roast chestnuts when I 
 was wakened by Hector's voice, saying : 
 " Zelie ! Zelie ! wake up now and eat." 
 He was kneeling beside me, bareheaded, with 
 a glowing triumphant face, and in his cap, which 
 he held in both hands, there was bread and hot 
 roast chestnuts. I could hardly believe at first 
 that it was not still a dream ; but the smell of 
 the chestnuts, the eager joy of Hector as he
 
 324 HECTOR. 
 
 peeled one of them and put it to my lips, con- 
 vinced me that I was awake, that this time I 
 might put my hand out and take food. I did not 
 say a word, I began to eat, and no one who has 
 not been hungry can conceive what it was like 
 to feel life coming back with every mouthful. 
 The pain in my head grew less, the blood seemed 
 to move again in my arms and legs, I felt light 
 and bright once more, and even before I was 
 able to think there was the delicious sense 
 through my enjoyment that Hector had brought 
 me this relief. 
 
 As soon as my head was clear enough, I asked 
 him how he had managed to get food. 
 
 For all answer he turned his pocket inside 
 out. The dirty handkerchief was there, and the 
 wood and wire. The Aviceptologie was gone. 
 
 " Hector, you have sold the book that Grand'- 
 mere gave you because you loved it so, and for 
 me?" 
 
 He nodded. Then, after carefully considering 
 his crust, he took an immense bite, and re 
 markecj, with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, 
 " Not for you, for chestnuts." 
 
 J knew better. 
 
 " How rnuch did you get for it ? " I asked 
 presently, ^Yhen I had swallowed the lump which 
 rose in my throat.
 
 HECTOR. 325 
 
 " Six sous. They said it was old-fashioned 
 and shabby," he explained in answer to my 
 exclamation of dismay. " I showed them the 
 pictures ; they said they were neither pretty nor 
 entertaining. They have bought it for waste- 
 paper." 
 
 We neither of us said any more, it was like 
 a friend to us. 
 
 Our journey had become painful now, indeed. 
 I would not for the world have taken away 
 Hector's courage by expressing doubts of our 
 success, but in my heart I began to feel that we 
 should never reach Montfort. Hector, too, was 
 almost exhausted. He made jokes from time to 
 time to cheer me, but he looked sad in between, 
 and he had dark tired rings under his eyes. We 
 spoke no more to each other of Georges or of 
 Montfort, but plodded slowly on, each, I believe, 
 with the desperate determination to go so long 
 as we could move our feet. Towards nightfall 
 it began to rain ; still we went on and on, seeing 
 no suitable place to sleep, till at last, wet and 
 shivering, we entered the suburbs of a town, and 
 exchanged the mud of the roads for closely set, 
 pointed, paving stones which, twisting and 
 bruising our swollen feet, added such unendur- 
 able pain to our fatigue, that we stopped as with
 
 326 HECTOR. 
 
 one accord. We had no need to speak, each 
 knew what the other felt. But what was to be 
 done? We gazed in silence down the feebly 
 lighted street, and then looked back into the 
 country from which we had come. The rain 
 was pouring down straight and heavy ; all behind 
 us was darkness and mud. 
 
 " You cannot sleep there, Z61ie," Hector said, 
 and we looked again into the town. The street 
 in which we stood was quite empty ; cutting it, 
 at a little distance, there was another, which 
 seemed wider and better lighted, and we could 
 see people moving to and fro, but to reach it we 
 must cross two hundred yards of paving stones. 
 I cared little what became of us ; I would have 
 liked to lie down where we were, but Hector, 
 after gazing for a moment, drew my arm into his 
 and led me forward. 
 
 " You must not sleep in the open air to-night," 
 he murmured in the tone of one who is uttering 
 a familiar thought aloud. And when we got into 
 the light of the broader street, I could see that 
 he had taken a resolution. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Hector ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " I am going to sing ! " he said ; "people will 
 give us perhaps a few sous."
 
 HECTOR. 327 
 
 To sing for money in the public streets, he, 
 my little gentleman, Hector ! Exhausted as I 
 was, the thought roused me. 
 
 " Hector, think of your grandfather ; what 
 would he say ? " 
 
 " He would say," Hector answered with a 
 little smile, " that a gentleman must not fail the 
 people who trust him." 
 
 He drew me down into the middle of the 
 street, and, as if my words had reminded him 
 of something, the song he chose to begin with 
 was the English " Home, sweet Home!" 
 
 I only heard the first verse. As he was 
 beginning the second my eyes fell on a familiar 
 face in the little circle which came round us ; my 
 head spun suddenly round, and, instead of the 
 words of Hector's song, the last sound which 
 struck upon my conscious ears was the voice of 
 Georges of St. Loubouet exclaiming in conster- 
 nation : 
 
 " Gracious heavens, Monsieur Hector ! What 
 are you doing in this plight in the high street of 
 Montfort ? " 
 
 We were in Montfort ! Georges was there ! 
 The next thing I knew was that I was dry and 
 warm in a comfortable bed, with Dr. Charles 
 sitting beside me feeling my pulse, and Marie
 
 528 HECTOR. 
 
 Monthez standing ready with a basin of broth ; 
 turning from them to look for Hector, I saw him 
 seated in an arm-chair by the fire, with just such 
 a basin as mine steaming on a little table at his 
 elbow : and by degrees I understood that Dr. 
 Charles had been passing in his carriage when 
 Georges picked me up, and that he had driven 
 us all to the house of Madame Monthez, where 
 we were welcome, as Marie hospitably told us, 
 to rest and eat for ever if we liked.
 
 HECTOR. 329 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ~D EST was delicious, indeed, between the 
 herb-scented sheets, but we did not sleep 
 till Hector had told why we came. Marie's 
 father listened with the others to our story. 
 When it was finished, he turned to Marie and 
 Georges where they stood together, and said : 
 
 " My children, you were right. A marriage 
 between you is impossible. When the miller 
 comes to-morrow for his final answer, it is I who 
 will give it to him once for all." 
 
 Marie and Georges exchanged a hearty shake 
 of the hand. 
 
 " The fact is," Marie said, with a smile, 
 " Georges and I like each other too much to be 
 willing to make one another mutually unhappy. 
 Now we shall remain friends to the end of our 
 lives." 
 
 " But that won't be much use," Hector said, 
 "unless Georges gets Irma from the miller." 
 And here Dr. Charles stood up and said, with
 
 33 HECTOR. 
 
 his kindly face glowing for sympathy, that he had 
 an idea, and that if Georges would go outside 
 with him, he would tell his plan. He buttoned 
 his great coat and took his hat, saying that he 
 would not return that evening, and he and 
 Georges went out together. When Georges 
 returned half-an-hour later, his lip was quivering 
 with emotion, and his hand trembled as he held 
 it out to Hector. 
 
 "I shall never thank you," he said; "you 
 have given me a happiness that you cannot even 
 imagine." 
 
 Two tears overflowed from his swimming 
 eyes, and as he dashed them away with the 
 back of his big brown hand, he said apologeti- 
 cally to the assembled circle. 
 
 " Excuse me ! it is joy." 
 
 It was enough for that one night. Weary 
 with so many strange emotions, I fell asleep 
 without even trying to think what Dr. Charles' 
 plan might be. 
 
 When I woke, it was afternoon, and Grand'- 
 mere was at my bedside. Dr. Charles had 
 driven through the night to Salaret, and at 
 break of day Grand'mere had started with fresh 
 horses to come to us. To tell my joy at -seeing 
 her, the sorrow I expressed for all the anxiety
 
 JIECTOE. 331 
 
 we had caused, is of little use. Everyone who 
 knows Grand'mere knows that any fault com- 
 mitted against her alone is soon forgiven ; and 
 she has never in her life been more gentle to 
 me than she was that day. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " we have passed through 
 many emotions. For a time we believed that 
 you had been murdered on the road to Dax; and 
 I blamed myself to have left you without care. 
 You have also your share before you. You must 
 take your courage in your two hands. But 
 remember that your Grand'mere is always there 
 who loves you as the child of her old age." 
 
 She helped me to dress in the clean clothes 
 that she had brought with her, and I was sur- 
 prised to find how weak and tired I still was. I 
 was glad to have her arm to lean upon as we 
 went into the kitchen. 
 
 An unusual number of people were there. 
 Georges and Irma stood hand in hand by the 
 window, looking so happy that there was no 
 need to ask any questions about them. It scarce- 
 ly occurred to me to be surprised at seeing Irma 
 at Montfort, but when my eyes fell on Irma's 
 father and mother dressed in their best clothes, 
 and chatting affably to M. Monthez, I began to 
 think that something strange must have hap-
 
 332 HECTOR. 
 
 pened. Hector sprang forward to meet us as 
 we entered the room, and his face was a revela- 
 tion to me. 
 
 " What is it ? " I asked, with a sudden fear I 
 could not account for. 
 
 " You have not told her ? " said Dr. Charles. 
 And as Grand'mere answered "No;" Hector 
 said, 
 
 " First of all, Georges is rich, and he is to 
 marry Irma in the spring." 
 
 I clapped my hands for joy, as, hearing their 
 names, Georges and Irma turned their radiant 
 faces on us from the window ; and it was in the 
 midst of a happy murmur of congratulation, that 
 Grand'mere said, 
 
 " But the fact is, my poor little Z61ie, there is 
 sadness for you underneath all this, for Hector 
 has to go." 
 
 Joyous sounds all round me, brilliant faces, 
 only Hector gravely holding my hand in a silence 
 I understood, while, with interruptions of joy 
 and gratitude from the bystanders, Grand'mere 
 Lold a story which accounted for all I saw. 
 
 On the very day we left Salaret, she had re- 
 turned home to find a letter waiting for her from 
 Hector's grandfather, in which Hector's imme- 
 diate return to England was desired. A terrible .
 
 HECTOR. 333 
 
 yachting accident had left the old man nearly 
 desolate. Hector's three uncles had been 
 drowned. The little orphan for whom but a 
 short time before there had been no place, was 
 now his grandfather's only heir. 
 
 Our disappearance under the circumstances, 
 with the country full of strange men, and dis- 
 quieting rumors afloat of children murdered on 
 the road to Dax, was too grave an occurrence to 
 be concealed from Hector's guardians. Grand- 
 'mere had telegraphed to England, and the 
 instructions which were telegraphed back from 
 England caused placards to be immediately 
 posted through the department offering a re- 
 ward of five thousand francs for our recovery. 
 
 Dr. Charles was the first to see that Georges 
 had fairly earned the reward, and when the 
 object of our journey was made known there 
 was little division of opinion in the matter. 
 Five thousand francs in ready money, with the 
 farm of St. Loubouet to come to him, and 
 Grand'mere's goodwill, put Georges very nearly 
 on a level with the miller as a match for Irma, 
 and there was now no objection to the marriage 
 we had so much desired. 
 
 I heard it all as in a dream. Irma and Georges 
 were rich and happy. Hector was to be rich
 
 334 HECTOR. 
 
 and happy, and to live with the grandfather that 
 he loved. Everyone round me was full of joy; 
 I also ought to rejoice, and all I understood of 
 the whole story was that Hector was going. 
 
 " Fortune has turned at last ! " exclaimed Ma- 
 dame Lagrace joyously; and then, with the one 
 cry of " Hector ! " I threw my arms round his 
 neck. 
 
 He knew what I meant. 
 
 " I will come back," he whispered, as he felt 
 my sobs rise against his breast ; and amid the 
 ever-increasing cackle of congratulation, I heard 
 Grand'mere saying gently, 
 
 " It is for his good, Zelie." 
 
 Yes, it was for his good. That was the best 
 thought to comfort me. I repeated it to myself, 
 when I looked again at the happy faces, and I 
 felt that it was wicked to grudge them their hap- 
 piness. Yet the joy on every countenance 
 seemed to drive me cruelly away, and my eyes 
 did not rest till they fell on Marie Monthez, who 
 alone of the strangers looked on with pity. 
 
 Our eyes met, and I knew as one does know 
 things sometimes in an instant, that she was not 
 happy like the rest. 
 
 At the same moment she started and colored 
 slightly. A shadow had fallen upon the floor, 
 and the miller entered the room.
 
 HECTOR. 335 
 
 The scene was evidently a complete surprise 
 for him. His red face grew positively pale for 
 an instant, and his jaw dropped as he perceived 
 Georges and Irma by the window, where they 
 still stood hand in hand. They were so happy 
 they saw nothing. They did not know the mil- 
 ler had come in. 
 
 I could see Marie's eyes follow him with the 
 pitiful expression deepening into pain. 
 
 M. Monthez came forward. 
 
 " I am sorry, Baptiste," he said, " I would 
 have spared you this surprise, but I did not ex- 
 pect you till the evening. Your answer is clear, 
 I think." And he indicated with his right hand 
 Georges and Irma. 
 
 " You mean that she marries the other?" said 
 the miller, stupidly staring at the couple in the 
 window. 
 
 " Yes, and if you weren't a fool, you'd marry 
 another, too ! " cried a sharp voice behind him. 
 
 We turned to see Marie Anna. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " she replied in answer to the ex- 
 pression with which the miller met this new 
 surprise. "You thought I would remain at the 
 mill for ever while you made a fool of yourself at 
 your leisure in Montfort. Ma foi, I could stand 
 it no longer, and I took the diligence last night 
 to come and see my son."
 
 33 6 HECTOR. 
 
 Then Baptiste's wrath found a vent. 
 
 "Don't plague me with your son!" he thun- 
 dered ; " I don't believe you have a son ; or if 
 you have, go to him for good and all." 
 
 " So I will ! " replied Marie Anna smartly, 
 "and to the inn of the ' Cruchon d'Or' also. 
 My son has bought the goodwill, and he can do 
 without me no longer. Therefore I give you 
 here my eight days' notice." 
 
 " Eight days' notice ! " repeated the miller, 
 suddenly sobered ; " after forty-seven years of 
 service, you give me eight days' notice ! But 
 what is to become of me ? " 
 
 " Little I care," replied Marie Anna, " what 
 becomes of you. I have had enough in forty- 
 seven years of serving a fool. Ah, I have no 
 son ! Well, continue, continue as you are doing, 
 and we shall see which of us two will grow old 
 with grandchildren about our knees." 
 
 The allusion was like the prodding of a goad 
 in the miller's pride. He evidently writhed un- 
 der it, and the color mounted purple over his 
 forehead as he made an effort to contain him- 
 self and answered humbly, 
 
 " But the linen, Marie Anna ! Who will look 
 after it ? And the provisions ? It is you who 
 keep them always locked. You cannot plant 
 me there with nobody ? "
 
 HECTOR. 337 
 
 He looked so big, so helpless, so shamefaced, 
 that a heart of stone must have felt some pity 
 for him. 
 
 " Foster-mother," said Marie Monthez, " you 
 will stay with him a little longer." 
 
 " Not a day ! " retorted Marie Anna. " It is 
 for those who feel sorry for him to help him now 
 if they like. I've borne with him for forty-seven 
 years, and I have had enough." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" she continued, addressing the 
 miller with renewed fire of sarcasm. "You 
 think it is I, with my worn-out eyes, who for the 
 last ten years have mended your linen, you 
 think it is I who take the trouble to renew the 
 rosemary and lavender every summer in the 
 shelves. You think it is I who spend my time 
 in seeking receipts to tempt your appetite. 
 Undeceive yourself, I would never have been so 
 foolish as to devote myself thus to a man ! 
 But," and she turned to the assembled company, 
 " see a little the imbecility of men. There is 
 one of whom nature has made a mass of egoism, 
 seeing no farther than his nose, asking nothing 
 but to let his comfort pass before everything in 
 the world. Here is an angel of intelligence and 
 devotion, who has but one folly, that of being 
 ready to pass her life in his service. And he, at 
 
 22
 
 338 HECTOR. 
 
 his age, spends his time in running on the one 
 side after a young girl who detests him, and on 
 the other after an old scold who despises him. 
 Oh, men ! We have to spend our lives in 
 showing them that two and two make four." 
 
 " I am of opinion," said Grand'mere good- 
 humoredly, as all eyes turned to the burning 
 countenances of the miller and Marie Monthez, 
 " that this is a case for showing how from four 
 we can make two and two. What do you say, 
 Baptiste ? the world has given you Marie 
 Monthez for a bride long since." 
 
 The miller had been brought very low ! 
 
 " Is it true ? " he asked, with an awkward 
 attempt to take Marie Monthez's hand; "you 
 will love me and you will not throw me over ? " 
 He cast a rueful glance on either side as he spoke 
 to Irma and to Marie Anna. 
 
 Marie Monthez had recovered her composure 
 by this time. 
 
 " I have loved you all my life, Baptiste," she 
 said simply, "and you know I am a good 
 manager." 
 
 So it was settled to the great delight of Marie 
 Anna, who, notwithstanding her contempt for 
 the miller, entertained a respect for the mill, 
 which had caused her, as she now avowed, to
 
 'IT IS LONG NOW SINCE THESE THINGS HAPPENED, AND I 
 SUPPOSE I HAVE GROWN TO BE A WOMAN." PAGE 339.
 
 HECTOR. 339 
 
 plan this marriage for her foster-child thirty 
 years ago, when the little Marie was still a baby 
 at her breast. 
 
 One other pleasant thing happened before my 
 great sorrow came. Grand'mdre bought back 
 the Aviceptologie on our way to Salaret, and 
 restored it to Hector. 
 
 Before he went to England, he in his turn 
 gave it to me because, he said, it was the thing 
 he had of his own which he loved the most, and 
 he would come back some day to fetch it. But 
 of all the rest I cannot speak. We hear from 
 him often, I have never seen him since. 
 
 It is a long time now since these things 
 happened, and I suppose I have grown to be a 
 woman. A little while ago I felt quite like a 
 child ; but on the day on which I first began to 
 write about Hector, Dr. Charles asked Grand'- 
 mere to let me be his wife. He said he had 
 loved me ever since that day in the spring time 
 long ago, when he saw me coming down Esque- 
 besse's lane in the sunshine, with my pinafore 
 pockets full of flowers. I am very sorry I 
 cannot love him too, but Grand'mere allowed me 
 to decide for myself, and I am still to stay at 
 Salaret. Since this took place, I have felt that 
 I am not quite a child, and I have tried to grow
 
 340 HECTOR. 
 
 wiser and more sensible as a woman ought to be. 
 But I hardly know yet which I am, and I ask 
 myself sometimes whether it is a child's folly or 
 a woman's, which makes me still believe Hector's 
 promise, " I will come back." 
 
 THE END.
 
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