The happiness of the last years of the old man’s life was much disturbed by the events of the French revolution.  He had been very anxious when he saw his young son join a club, which was sure to incur the ill-will of the ruling power in Paris; and yet he could not dissuade him from doing so; and, though he had rejoiced when his son returned to Poitou still safe, the imprisonment of the King had woefully afflicted him, and his death had nearly killed him.  He had now expressed his opposition to the levies of a conscription with a degree of energy which had astonished his family.  He knew the names and persons of every man and woman living on his estate, indeed, of every child above the age of ten; and, when he was told the names of those who were drawn as conscripts, he desired that they might all be told in his name that he hoped they would not obey.

Henri de Larochejacquelin has already been introduced to the reader.  He returned to Poitou as soon as the Republic was proclaimed, together with de Lescure and Adolphe Denot.  Adolphe had been staying a great portion of the winter at Durbelliere, but he had since gone to his own place, and was now at Clisson, the seat of M. de Lescure.

Marie de Lescure, the sister of Henri’s friend, was staying at Durbelliere with Agatha Larochejaquelin; and her visit, which had been prolonged from before Christmas, had certainly not been made less agreeable by the fact of Henri’s having been at home the whole time.  She and Agatha were both pretty, but they were very different.  Marie had dark hair, nearly black, very dark eyes, and a beautiful rich complexion; her skin was dark, but never sallow; her colour was not bright, but always clear and transparent; her hair curled naturally round her head, and the heavy curls fell upon her neck and shoulders; she was rather under the middle height, but the symmetry of her figure was so perfect, that no one would have called her too short.  She had high animal spirits, and was always happy and good humoured; was very fond of amusement of every kind, and able to extract amusement out of everything.  She was the great favourite of the old Marquis, not that he loved her so well as his own daughter, but her habits and manners suited him better than Agatha’s; she could better sympathize with the old man’s wishes and fancies; she would smooth the plumage of his birds for him; arrange and re-arrange his shells; feed his cats, his dogs, his tame deer, and his white peacock—­for the old Marquis had live pets as well as dead favourites.  Then she would sing merry little songs to him, and laugh at him, and quiz his painted figures, and help to wheel his chair, or pretend to do so.