been varnished, it was so well rubbed and polished.  Eggs, butter, a rice pudding, and fragrant wild strawberries had been set out, and the poor child had put flowers everywhere about the room; evidently it was a great day for her.  At the sight of all this, the commandant could not help looking enviously at the little house and the green sward about it, and watched the peasant girl with an air that expressed both his doubts and his hopes.  Then his eyes fell on Adrien, with whom La Fosseuse was deliberately busying herself, and handing him the eggs.

“Now, commandant,” said Benassis, “you know the terms on which you are receiving hospitality.  You must tell La Fosseuse ’something about the army.’”

“But let the gentleman first have his breakfast in peace, and then, after he has taken a cup of coffee——­”

“By all means, I shall be very glad,” answered the commandant; “but it must be upon one condition:  you will tell us the story of some adventure in your past life, will you not, mademoiselle?”

“Why, nothing worth telling has ever happened to me, sir,” she answered, as her color rose.  “Will you take a little more rice pudding?” she added, as she saw that Adrien’s plate was empty.

“If you please, mademoiselle.”

“The pudding is delicious,” said Genestas.

“Then what will you say to her coffee and cream?” cried Benassis.

“I would rather hear our pretty hostess talk.”

“You did not put that nicely, Genestas,” said Benassis.  He took La Fosseuse’s hand in his and pressed it as he went on:  “Listen, my child; there is a kind heart hidden away beneath that officer’s stern exterior, and you can talk freely before him.  We do not want to press you to talk, do not tell us anything unless you like:  but if ever you can be listened to and understood, poor little one, it will be by the three who are with you now at this moment.  Tell us all about your love affairs in the old days, that will not admit us into any of the real secrets of your heart.”

“Here is Mariette with the coffee,” she answered, “and as soon as you are all served, I will tell about my ‘love affairs’ very willingly.  But M. le Commandant will not forget his promise?” she added, challenging the officer with a shy glance.

“That would be impossible, mademoiselle,” Genestas answered respectfully.

“When I was sixteen years old,” La Fosseuse began, “I had to beg my bread on the roadside in Savoy, though my health was very bad.  I used to sleep at Echelles, in a manger full of straw.  The innkeeper who gave me shelter was kind, but his wife could not abide me, and was always saying hard things.  I used to feel very miserable; for though I was a beggar, I was not a naughty child; I used to say my prayers every night and morning, I never stole anything, and I did as Heaven bade me in begging for my living, for there was nothing that I could turn my hands to, and I was really unfit for work—­quite unable to handle a hoe or to wind spools of cotton.