"No, I'll wait for Christophe," said her guest; "I shall see him before you will, where I am sitting; and when we are tired of chatting, I will read to you awhile, and that will make the time seem short."

He certainly ought to be near home by this time. I can't think what keeps him."

"Whose castle is that I see perched on a crag

Turk; and yet people say there's some good in him. I don't know what it consists in. He is one of the three saints; so they call him and the Barons of St. Hérem and St. Chaumont; but, for my part, I think they might better be called the three sinners. They have no fellow-feeling for poor people, and, instead of protecting, they oppress us.'

The universal story, my good girl."

Ought it, need it, to be so?"

Certainly not."

Why, now, the year of the bad harvest-Do

you see Christophe coming?"

"No, the road is quite clear. What were you going to say?"

"The year when the harvest and vintage so miserably failed, the rich ought to have come forward and helped us poor people; but instead of that, they took from us what little we had.”

The monks ought to have helped you."

"The monks! Why, the monks of Chanteuges

used to sally forth at night and rob on the highway!"

Humph!"

"I shall never forget that year it was the year my mother died. I used to sit beside her bed, making lace at every spare moment; and then came the law that only the nobles were to wear lace, which cut off one great branch of our trade, that among the rich citizens. The men of Le Velay scattered far and wide, that winter, in search of work, locking up their houses, and sending their wives and children into the fortified towns; but my mother was too ill to be moved, and my father and Christophe would not leave her. It was well they did not, or we should have been devoured by the wolves that came up to our very door. As it was, we should have perished of hunger, but for the goodness of our neighbours, every one of whom, before dispersing, brought us

to war or Minste." said her guest;

w where I am

AT VE KE 20 of chatting, I will

DA LI TE Vake the time

be near home by this

What keeps him.”

Let see perched on a crag

The Bura de St. Vas He's a terrible

if pengid say there's some good in

Wat a coes.sts in. He is

DE DE SLID, so they call him and the ia & here and St. Chaumont; but, to my put, I took they might better be called I aixes. They have no fellow-feeling 1 poor people, and, instead of protecting, they

-The year when the harvest and victwys wo miserably failed, the rich ought to have ora b ward and helped us poor people; but i fiat, they took from us what little we had." -The monks ought to have helped you." -The monies? Why, the monks of Clauses a ned to saly forth at night and on the

something to add to our little stores.

him?"

You see

"No, I only saw a young wolf steal across the

"I forget what I was saying."

About the hard winter.

year 1547, I'm thinking."

That was in the

'Yes, two years ago. I was then a girl of

sixteen."

"No more? I should have thought you older!"

Care makes people look old," said she, with a sad smile.

"It does," said he reflectively. "I dare say, now, you reckon me at fifty?"

"Well,—perhaps forty-eight." "I'm barely forty, though."

66

'What is your name?"

My baptismal name-the name I am chiefly

called by-is Bertrand."

"You are not a Velaysan?"

"Nay, no harm can befal him in broad daylight."