Well! since you appreciate good living, I am your man; I have an excellent cook.  I may even say that I have two for the present; one coming in and the other going out; it is a conjunction; the result is, a contest of skill, an academic tourney, of which you will assist me in adjudging the prize!  Come! sir,” he added, laughing ingenuously at his own chattering, “it’s settled, isn’t it?  I’m going to carry you off.”

Happy Paul, thrice happy is the man who can say No!  Alone, he is really master of his time, of his fortune, and of his honor.  One should be able to say No! even to a beggar, even to a woman, even to an amiable old man, under penalty of surrendering at hazard his charity, his dignity, and his independence.  For want of a manly No, how much misery, how many downfalls, how many crimes since Adam!

While I was considering in my own mind the invitation which had just been extended to me, these thoughts crowded in my brain; I recognized their profound wisdom, and I said Yes!  Fatal word, through which I lost my paradise, exchanging a retreat wholly to my taste—­peaceful, laborious, romantic, and free—­for the stiffness of a residence where society displays all the fury of its insipid dissipations.

I demanded the necessary time for effecting my removal, and Monsieur de Malouet left me, after grasping my hand cordially, declaring that he was extremely pleased with me, and that he was going to stimulate his two cooks to give me a triumphant reception.  “I am going,” he said in conclusion, “to announce to them an artist, a poet:  that’ll work up their imagination.”

Toward five o’clock, two valets from the chateau came to take charge of my light baggage, and to advise me that a carriage was waiting for me on top of the hills.  I bade farewell to my cell; I thanked my hosts; and I kissed their little urchins, all besmeared and ill-kempt as they were.  These kind people seemed to see me going with regret.  I felt, myself, an extraordinary and unaccountable sadness.  I know not what strange sentiment attached me to that valley, but I left it with an aching heart, as one leaves his native country.

More to-morrow, Paul, for I am exhausted.

CHAPTER IV.

The little countess.

26th September.

The chateau of Malouet is a massive and rather vulgar construction, which dates some one hundred years back.  Fine avenues, a court of honor of a handsome style, and an ancient park impart to it, however, an aspect truly seigneurial.