The Chateau of Mussidan stands in a very lonely spot, and one of the roads leading to it passes through a dense forest, and therefore it had been arranged that Andre was to take his meals in the house.  After a time Sabine began to feel that this isolation was a needless humiliation.

“Why can’t M. Andre take his meals with us?” asked she of her aunt.  “He is certainly more gentlemanlike than many of those who visit us, and I think that his conversation would entertain you.”

The old lady was easily persuaded to adopt this suggestion, though at first it seemed an odd kind of thing to admit a mere working man to her table; but she was so bored with the loneliness of the place that she hailed with delight anything that would break its monotony.  Andre at once accepted the proposal, and the old lady would hardly believe her eyes when her guest entered the room with the dress and manners of a highbred gentleman.  “It is hardly to be believed,” said she, as she was preparing to go to bed, “that a mere carver of stone should be so like a gentleman.  It seems to me that all distinctions of social rank have vanished.  It is time for me to die, or we are rapidly approaching a state of anarchy.”

In spite of her prejudices, however, Andre contrived to win the old lady’s heart, and won a complete victory by painting her portrait in full gala costume.  From that moment he was treated as one of the family, and, having no fear of a rebuff, was witty and sprightly in his manner.  Once he told the old lady the true story of his life.  Sabine was deeply interested, and marvelled at his energy and endurance, which had won for him a place on the ladder that leads to future eminence.  She saw in him the realization of all her girlish dreams, and finally confessed to herself that she loved him.  Both her father and mother had their own pleasures and pursuits, and Sabine was as much alone in the world as Andre.

The days now fled rapidly by.  Buried in this secluded country house, they were as free as the breeze that played through the trees of the forest, for the old lady rarely disturbed them.  After the morning meal, she would beg Andre to read the newspaper to her, and fell into a doze before he had been five minutes at the task.  Then the young people would slip quietly away, as merry as truants from school.  They wandered beneath the shade of the giant oaks, or climbed the rocks that stood by the river bank.  Sometimes, seated in a dilapidated boat, they would drift down the stream with its flower-bedecked banks.  The water was often almost covered with rushes and water lilies.  Two months of enchantment thus fled past, two months of the intoxications of love, though the mention of the tender passion never rose to their lips from their hearts, where it was deeply imbedded.  Andre had cast all reflections regarding the perils of the future to the winds, and only thanked heaven for the happiness that he was experiencing.