“No, charity,” she said, controlling her tears, “this wild idea enlightens me as to your character; your heart will be your bane.  I shall claim from this moment the right to teach you certain things.  Let my woman’s eye see for you sometimes.  Yes, from the solitudes of Clochegourde I mean to share, silently, contentedly, in your successes.  As to a tutor, do not fear; we shall find some good old abbe, some learned Jesuit, and my father will gladly devote a handsome sum to the education of the boy who is to bear his name.  Jacques is my pride.  He is, however, eleven years old,” she added after a pause.  “But it is with him as with you; when I first saw you I took you to be about thirteen.”

We now reached the Cassine, where Jacques, Madeleine, and I followed her about as children follow a mother; but we were in her way; I left her presently and went into the orchard where Martineau the elder, keeper of the place, was discussing with Martineau the younger, the bailiff, whether certain trees ought or ought not to be taken down; they were arguing the matter as if it concerned their own property.  I then saw how much the countess was beloved.  I spoke of it to a poor laborer, who, with one foot on his spade and an elbow on its handle, stood listening to the two doctors of pomology.

“Ah, yes, monsieur,” he answered, “she is a good woman, and not haughty like those hussies at Azay, who would see us die like dogs sooner than yield us one penny of the price of a grave!  The day when that woman leaves these parts the Blessed Virgin will weep, and we too.  She knows what is due to her, but she knows our hardships, too, and she puts them into the account.”

With what pleasure I gave that man all the money I had.

A few days later a pony arrived for Jacques, his father, an excellent horseman, wishing to accustom the child by degrees to the fatigues of such exercise.  The boy had a pretty riding-dress, bought with the product of the nuts.  The morning when he took his first lesson accompanied by his father and by Madeleine, who jumped and shouted about the lawn round which Jacques was riding, was a great maternal festival for the countess.  The boy wore a blue collar embroidered by her, a little sky-blue overcoat fastened by a polished leather belt, a pair of white trousers pleated at the waist, and a Scotch cap, from which his fair hair flowed in heavy locks.  He was charming to behold.  All the servants clustered round to share the domestic joy.  The little heir smiled at his mother as he passed her, sitting erect, and quite fearless.  This first manly act of a child to whom death had often seemed so near, the promise of a sound future warranted by this ride which showed him so handsome, so fresh, so rosy,—­what a reward for all her cares!  Then too the joy of the father, who seemed to renew his youth, and who smiled for the first time in many long months; the pleasure shown on all faces, the shout of an old huntsman of the Lenoncourts, who had