"Bless me! if the girl has her lodging and keep and washing, it seems to me that if you give her a ten-franc piece every month she'll be satisfied. Do you think that's too much?"

"No, it's not too much; and I promise you to increase her wages if she serves me faithfully."

"Then it's all fixed, unless Poucette don't want to go into service; but if she don't want to, why, we wouldn't like to vex the child. She'd think we was doing it to get rid of her; she'd think we didn't love her any more; and that would make her unhappy, and us too!"

"Poor people!" said Honorine, looking at Agathe, "how devoted they are to one another! Their hearts are rich at all events! And the people who roll in wealth are sometimes very poor in that respect.--Might we not see Poucette, madame," she asked the peasant, "so that we may find out at once whether or not we may count upon her?"

"Well, yes! but just now she's at our little piece of land with Claudine, planting potatoes, because Guillot's got some work at Monsieur Luminot's."

"Is your piece of land far from here?"

"Oh, no! not so very far; if you'd like to go there--you see I can't show you the way myself, and Mariette is doing something for me just now.--Pere Ledrux, you know where our field is."

"Let me see! Pardi! to be sure I do; it's right alongside of Gros-Pierre's field, where he's set out plum trees that don't grow."

"That's right; then you can take these ladies there."

"Yes, yes! Pardi! while I'm about it, I might as well lose my whole day; it will go in with the rest."

"Very well; continue to be our guide, Pere Ledrux, and let us go to find Poucette. After all, it will make us acquainted with the country.--Good-morning, madame; we are going to see your niece, and if my proposition is satisfactory to her, that arrangement will be made."

"You won't be sorry, for she's a good girl. Your servant, mesdames."

The two friends set off once more, still preceded by the gardener, who led them across the country, saying:

"This time it's in just the opposite direction; we have got to go toward Gournay."

"Is it a long distance?"

"Faith! it's quite a little piece."

"How does it happen," said Agathe, "that a man buys land so far from his house?"

"Well! mamzelle, sometimes one inherits it, or else he gets it at a bargain. I believe that Guillot got this piece of land of his from his father-in-law, but I'm afraid he won't keep it long."

"Why so?"

"Oh! I have an idea that it's pretty well mortgaged! I've often seen Guillot going to Monsieur Jarnouillard's, and bless me! round here, when you say: 'He goes to Jarnouillard's,' that means that his affairs are in bad shape, that he needs money!"

"Poor people! But Poucette's uncle is a hard-working man, you said?"

"To be sure; but you understand, when you have to feed so many mouths--and then the potatoes being bad last year, and that was Guillot's only crop! When you count on a thing and it goes back on you, why, it's rather upsetting!--Tutu--turlututu!"

XX

THE ENVIRONS OF Ch.e.l.lES.--POUCETTE.--AMI

"We're heading now as if we was going to Gournay," said the gardener, trotting in front of the two ladies; "this will help you to know the way when you want to go to walk in the neighborhood; and especially if you happen to feel like eating a _matelote_; for Gournay's famous for them, you know."

The peasant led them past the railroad station, which is on the road from Ch.e.l.les to Gournay. Beyond the station they found themselves on a fine road bordered by tall poplars and enclosed by ditches filled with water, which prevented pa.s.sers-by from walking in the fields on the other side of the ditches.

Both to the right and left the country was flat for some distance; it was a beautiful valley interspersed with coverts arranged for the express purpose of affording the game a place of rest and shelter.

"This is a very fine road," said Agathe, after they had been walking on it for ten minutes, "but it is too straight, too monotonous; I don't like roads where you never can tell whether you are going forward; is it like this very much longer?"

"No, mamzelle. Look; where you see that stone on the left, we make a turn, and then we shall have Gournay before us, and the view is more varied."

In fact, after turning to the left, they could see the Marne, whose placid green waters conceal many rocks dangerous to vessels and to bathers. The outlook was charming: on the left they saw a mill which reached boldly to the very centre of the river, supported by numerous piles. There were obstructions, too, to warn boatmen that they must not venture near, and that the pa.s.sage was dangerous when it was not impossible. And the water, pa.s.sing over these obstructions, formed cascades and waterfalls which gave life to the picture; while numerous little islands above the mill added still more to the charm of the landscape.

In another direction a tall hedge enclosed a park belonging to an estate called the _Maison Blanche_; then there were more pastures and fields and coverts.

"Ah! this is lovely!" exclaimed the girl, when she saw the river. "How pretty the water is, my dear! it makes a landscape beautiful instantly.

I don't call those horrid ditches by the roadside water. We will come here often to walk, won't we, Honorine?"

"It's rather far from Ch.e.l.les; however, we shall come here, no doubt."

"I intend to learn to fish, my dear; you must teach me the way."

"But I know no more about it than you do!"

"Never fear," said the peasant; "when you have a stout line, and when you've found out a place where there's fish, it goes all alone; but you'll have to buy a license though."

"What bridge is that ahead of us?"

"That bridge leads to Gournay, then to Noisy-le-Grand, then to Montfermeil, if you choose; but you have to pay to cross; it's a toll, a charge--I don't know what they call it; but it's a sou each. It seems that it cost three hundred thousand francs to build, and they want to get the money back; there's eighty years still that we've got to pay, but after that we can pa.s.s for nothing. As I don't like to put out a sou, I don't often cross; I'm waiting till it's free."

"Don't be afraid," said Honorine with a smile; "we will pay for you."

"Oh! it ain't worth while; we haven't got to cross the bridge to get to Guillot's field; it's to our left, on the bank of the river."

"But while we are here, I should be glad to know what there is on the other side of the bridge."

"Bless my soul! there's nothing but Gournay, a small village, a quiet little place that don't make much noise in the world. Bless me! there's only a hundred and twenty-five to a hundred and thirty people, at most, and you can guess it ain't likely to be as lively as Paris!"

"True; and if all the villages roundabout are as small, I understand why we have not met, or even seen, a single living being since we left Ch.e.l.les. Doesn't it seem strange to you, Agathe, to walk for three-quarters of an hour in the country without meeting anyone?"

"Yes, my dear; but I have been fancying that I was walking on my own property, and that all the land in sight belonged to me."

"Indeed, one might well have that illusion. See: even on the river, although it is very beautiful, there is not a vessel in sight: no steamboats, no barges, no skiffs, no washerwomen, not even a single fisherman on the sh.o.r.e! It's as deserted as the surrounding country!"

"Oh! sometimes there's loads of wood go down the Marne; I've seen 'em!"

"Those must be noteworthy days."