“Yes,” answered Rose, mournfully; “to fetch some heath, of which our mother was so fond.”

“Poor mother!” added Blanche; “she appeared so well that morning, that we could not dream of the calamity which awaited us before night.”

“True, my children; I sang and worked that morning in the garden, expecting, no more than you did, what was to happen.  Well, as I was singing at my work, on a sudden I heard a voice ask me in French:  ’Is this the village of Milosk?’—­I turned round, and saw before me a stranger; I looked at him attentively, and, instead of replying, fell back two steps, quite stupefied.”

“Ah, why?”

“He was of tall stature, very pale, with a high and open forehead; but his eyebrows met, and seemed to form one black streak across it.”

“Then it was the same man who had twice been with our father in battle?”

“Yes—­it was he.”

“But, Dagobert,” said Rose, thoughtfully, “is it not a long time since these battles?”

“About sixteen years.”

“And of what age was this stranger?”

“Hardly more than thirty.”

“Then how can it be the same man, who sixteen years before, had been with our father in the wars?”

“You are right,” said Dagobert, after a moment’s silence, and shrugging his shoulders:  “I may have been deceived by a chance likeness—­and yet—­”

“Or, if it were the same, he could not have got older all that while.”

“But did you ask him, if he had not formerly relieved our father?”

“At first I was so surprised that I did not think of it; and afterwards, he remained so short a time, that I had no opportunity.  Well, he asked me for the village of Milosk.  ‘You are there, sir,’ said I, ’but how do you know that I am a Frenchman?’ ‘I heard you singing as I passed,’ replied he; ‘could you tell me the house of Madame Simon, the general’s wife?’ ‘She lives here, sir.’  Then looking at me for some seconds in silence, he took me by the hand and said:  ’You are the friend of General Simon—­his best friend?’ Judge of my astonishment, as I answered:  ’But, sir, how do you know?’ ‘He has often spoken of you with gratitude.’  ’You have seen the general then?’ ’Yes, some time ago, in India.  I am also his friend:  I bring news of him to his wife, whom I knew to be exiled in Siberia.  At Tobolsk, whence I come, I learned that she inhabits this village.  Conduct me to her!’”

“The good traveller—­I love him already,” said Rose.

“Yes, being father’s friend.”

“I begged him to wait an instant, whilst I went to inform your mother, so that the surprise might not do her harm; five minutes after, he was beside her.”

“And what kind of man was this traveller, Dagobert?”

“He was very tall; he wore a dark pelisse, and a fur cap, and had long black hair.”

“Was he handsome?”

“Yes, my children—­very handsome; but with so mild and melancholy an air, that it pained my heart to see him.”