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soon came running after him with a heavy bag of money, in return for his sack with the head.”

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Is that all?" cried Colette. "I should not think there were many routiers like that."

"There are good and bad of all sorts," said Christophe. "You should have heard Gabrielle

tell the story."

And after a moment, he began to hum a hymn to the Virgin; and Colette, with her arm on his shoulder, softly sang with him.

The stars came out, one by one.

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ALL at once a horrid glare of red light shone

in the horizon.

"Oh, see!" cried Colette, "what's that?"

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"A farm, or perhaps a village, set on fire by the routiers," said Christophe, after a moment's silence. Then drawing her closer to him,-"That might have been our fate," said he, in a low voice,

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I had we tarried at home another night."

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Poor people who can tell what shocking things are happening among those flames!" said Colette.

"Who, indeed!" repeated Christophe. "However, perhaps the routiers are disappointed at finding the premises cleared out before their visit, and are taking the only revenge in their power by burning the mere walls and thatch."

"It can't be our house," said Colette, hastily.

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No; ours lies more to the south."

"How shocking it is to look down on such scenes of distress, and be unable to give any help! And yet, how comfortable to be perched up here, shut in with strong gates, and surrounded by plenty of people, quite in safety!"

"Ah, don't let us boast!

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'Why, what danger can there be?"

"Towns and cities have been sacked before

now."

Here their grandmother called them in.

A few days afterwards, Colette met Gabrielle with her pretty face disfigured with a large plaster. "Why, Gabrielle !" cried she, "what have you been about?"

"Ah, you may well ask," said Gabrielle. "Don't laugh at me, for I feel very sore."

Sore! I should think so, if your hurt is as large as that plaster!"

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That it is, I can tell you; but I mean, I feel sore about my looks-I doubt if I shall not always have a scar. Did I not tell you we had hired a nice room at the potter's, and chosen a head, and put ourselves under the special protection of the Black Lady? Well, who would have thought, after our doing that, of the floor giving way and

all of us falling through it into the ware-room below, with as little order as so many bricks,— tumbling among the pottery, breaking ever so much of it, besides cutting, bruising, and hurting ourselves? It was so though, I assure you!"

"I am very glad I was not among you," said Colette; "was any one seriously hurt?”

"Nay; there were no bones broken, but every one was more or less disfigured. Victorine had her lip cut open; Marie has an eye like a halfripe plum; Georgette has wrenched her wrist; and you see how I am hurt!

"Yes. What a pity!"

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Moreover, we broke more pottery than we had earned money to pay for. My father advanced it, and we are to pay him by instalments; but it takes away one's spirit in working, when it is only to pay off a debt. 'Tis a bad affair altogether. And what do you think the potter said? The floor had never given way before! And something he added about our seeming to be very heavy."

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"Have you found another lodging? "Oh, yes; a ground-floor room, but not half as cheerful and airy. When are you coming to see You have not been near us yet."

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"I find so many things to do, to help my aunt. You know the work of the house is doubled."

"Yes; and you fritter away your time in peeling turnips and scraping carrots, and will not have made a dozen yards of lace by Christmas. Adieu! I shall run up to you some evening."

In the afternoon, Colette was cleaning the silver spoons, when some one tapped at the door. She went to open it, and started when some one said, "Will you buy————,” and then stopped short, and started too. They both laughed, for it was Bertrand, and neither of them had expected to see the other.

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'So, here you are," cried he cheerfully. "You forgot to tell me where you were to be found."

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"I will; but first let me for a moment enjoy the superb prospect from this door. What a plain! What a girdle of hills, crags, and mountains! What eagles' nests of castles perched on their summits! The rivers, straying across the wide campaign, look like the blue veins on a lady's white hand. The herds and flocks are mere specks. How singular is this needle-like rock,

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