“O Alix!” I cried, “I shall see her.  Papa has a letter to her husband; I shall tell her; she will come to see you; and—­”

“No, no!  You must not speak of me, Francoise.  She knew and loved the Countess Alix de Morainville.  I know her; she would repel with scorn the wife of the gardener.  I am happy in my obscurity.  Let nothing remind me of other days.”

Seeing that Alix said nothing of all this to Suzanne, I imitated her example.  With all her goodness, Suzanne was so thoughtless and talkative!

FOOTNOTES: 
[15] Now generally miscalled St. Martinsville.—­TRANSLATOR.

XI.

ALIX PLAYS FAIRY.—­PARTING TEARS.

In about fifteen days the work on the cottage was nearly done and the moving began, Celeste, and even Maggie, offering us their services.  Alix seemed enchanted.

“Two things, only, I lack,” she said—­“a sofa, and something to cover the walls.”

One morning M. Gerbeau sent to Carpentier a horse, two fine cows and their calves, and a number of sheep and pigs.  At the same time two or three negresses, loaded down with chickens, geese, and ducks, made their appearance.  Also M. Gerbeau.

“What does all this mean?” asked Joseph.

“This is the succession of the dead Swede,” replied the generous young man.

“But I have no right to his succession.”

“That’s a question,” responded M. Gerbeau.  “You have inherited the house, you must inherit all.  If claimants appear—­well, you will be responsible to them.  You will please give me a receipt in due form; that is all.”

Tears came into Carpentier’s eyes....  As he was signing the receipt M. Gerbeau stopped him.  “Wait; I forgot something.  At the time of Karl’s [the Swede’s] death, I took from his crib fifty barrels of corn; add that.”

“O sir!” cried Joseph, “that is too much—­too much.”

“Write!” said M. Gerbeau, laying his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “if you please.  I am giving you nothing; I am relieving myself of a burden.”

* * * * *

My dear daughter, if I have talked very much about Alix it is because talking about her is such pleasure.  She has been so good to my sister and me!  The memory of her is one of the brightest of my youth.

The flatboat was to go in three days.  One morning, when we had passed the night with Mme. Gerbeau, Patrick came running to say that “Madame ’Lix” wished to see us at once.  We hastened to the cottage.  Alix met us on the gallery [veranda].

“Come in, dear girls.  I have a surprise for you and a great favor to ask.  I heard you say, Suzanne, you had nothing to wear—­”

“But our camayeu petticoats!”

“But your camayeu petticoats.”  She smiled.

“And they, it seems, do not tempt your vanity.  You want better?”

“Ah, indeed we do!” replied Suzanne.