“While you, my poor Dupont, are well read in slander!  This lady seems very respectable.  The first thing she asked for on arriving was the chapel of the Castle, of which she had heard speak.  She even said that she would make some embellishments in it; and, when I told her we had no church in this little place, she appeared quite vexed not to have a curate in the village.”

“Oh, to be sure! that’s the first thought of your upstarts—­to play the great lady of the parish, like your titled people.”

“Madame de la Sainte-Colombe need not play the great lady, because she is one.”

“She! a great lady?  Oh, lor’!”

“Yes—­only see how she was dressed, in scarlet gown, and violet gloves like a bishop’s; and, when she took off her bonnet, she had a diamond band round her head-dress of false, light hair, and diamond ear-drops as large as my thumb, and diamond rings on every finger!  None of your tuppenny beauties would wear so many diamonds in the middle of the day.”

“You are a pretty judge!”

“That is not all.”

“Do you mean to say there’s more?”

“She talked of nothing but dukes, and marquises, and counts, and very rich gentlemen, who visit at her house, and are her most intimate friends; and then, when she saw the summer house in the park, half-burnt by the Prussians, which our late master never rebuilt, she asked, ’What are those ruins there?’ and I answered:  ’Madame, it was in the time of the Allies that the pavilion was burnt.’—­’Oh, my clear,’ cried she; ’our allies, good, dear allies! they and the Restoration began my fortune!’ So you see, Dupont, I said to myself directly:  ’She was no doubt one of the noble women who fled abroad—­’”

“Madame de la Sainte-Colombe!” cried the bailiff, laughing heartily.  “Oh, my poor, poor wife!”

“Oh, it is all very well; but because you have been three years at Paris, don’t think yourself a conjurer!”

“Catherine, let’s drop it:  you will make me say some folly, and there are certain things which dear, good creatures like you need never know.”

“I cannot tell what you are driving at, only try to be less slanderous—­for, after all, should Madame de la Sainte-Colombe buy the estate, will you be sorry to remain as her bailiff, eh?”

“Not I—­for we are getting old, my good Catherine; we have lived here twenty years, and we have been too honest to provide for our old days by pilfering—­and truly, at our age, it would be hard to seek another place, which perhaps we should not find.  What I regret is, that Mademoiselle Adrienne should not keep the land; it seems that she wished to sell it, against the will of the princess.”

“Good gracious, Dupont! is it not very extraordinary that Mademoiselle Adrienne should have the disposal of her large fortune so early in life?”

“Faith! simple enough.  Our young lady, having no father or mother, is mistress of her property, besides having a famous little will of her own.  Dost remember, ten years ago, when the count brought her down here one summer?—­what an imp of mischief! and then what eyes! eh?—­how they sparkled, even then!”