“At the outbreak of the Revolution he emigrated to Jersey, though why it is difficult to understand, for no one assuredly would have molested him, but the nobles of Treguier told him that such was the king’s order, and he went off with the rest.  He was not long away, and when he came back he found his old house, which had not been occupied, just as he had left it.  When the indemnities were distributed some of his friends tried to persuade him to put in a claim; and there was much, no doubt, which could have been said in support of it.  But though the other nobles were anxious to improve his position, he would not hear of any such thing, his sole reply to all arguments being, ‘I had nothing, and I could lose nothing.’  He remained, therefore, as poor as ever.

“His wife died, I believe, while he was at Jersey, and he had a daughter who was born about the same time.  She was a tall and handsome girl (you have only known her since she has lost her freshness), with much natural vigour, a beautiful complexion, and no lack of generous blood running through her veins.  She ought to have been married young, but that was out of the question, for those wretched little starvelings of nobles in the small towns, who are good for nothing, and not to be compared with him, would not have heard of her for their sons.  As a matter of etiquette she could not marry a peasant, and so the poor girl remained, as it were, in mid-air, like a wandering spirit.  There was no place for her on earth.  Her father was the last of his race, and it seemed as if she had been brought into the world with the destiny of not finding a place for herself in it.  Endowed with great physical beauty, she scarcely had any soul, and with her instinct was everything.  She would have made an excellent mother, but failing marriage a religious vocation would have suited her best, as the regular and austere mode of life would have calmed her temperament.  But her father, doubtless, could not afford to provide her with a dowry, and his social condition forbade the idea of making her a lay-sister.  Poor girl, driven into the wrong path, she was fated to meet her doom there.  She was naturally upright and good, with a full knowledge of her duties, and her only fault was that she had blood in her veins.  None of the young men in the village would have dreamt of taking a liberty with her, so much was her father respected.  The feeling of her superiority prevented her from forming any acquaintance with the young peasants, and they never thought of paying their addresses to her.  The poor girl lived, therefore, in a state of absolute solitude, for the only other inhabitant of the house was a lad of twelve or thirteen, a nephew, whom Kermelle had taken under his care and to whom the priest, a good man if ever there was one, taught what little Latin he knew himself.