. But you must walk warily, Albert, and keep your eyes
open. Unfortunately my purse is nearly empty, but I daresay that from
time to time I shall be able to send you a little money."

My mother wept bitterly when she heard of the decision, but after a
while she became more reconciled, and helped to pack my few things.

On the morning of my departure we sat down in very low spirits.
Pierre, our faithful old servant, had prepared a simple meal, but no
one seemed inclined to eat. At last we made an end of the pretence,
and went to the door. "God keep you, my son," exclaimed my mother,
embracing me; "I shall pray for you always."

"Remember you are a De Lalande," said my father proudly, "and do
nothing that will disgrace your name."

I kissed them both, and, walking to the gate, passed through. Outside
stood Pierre, who waited to wish me farewell.

"Adieu, Pierre," I cried, trying to speak gaily. "Look after the old
place till my return."

The honest fellow's tears fell on my hand as he raised it to his lips
and said, "Adieu, Monsieur Albert. May the good God bring you back
safe and sound. Three generations, grandsire, sire, and son, I have
seen, and evil days have come upon them all."

"Cheer up, my trusty Pierre! Keep a good heart. What a De Lalande has
done I can do, and by God's help I will yet restore the fortunes of our
house. Good-bye!" and I turned my face resolutely towards Paris.

Once only I looked back, and that was to steal a last glance at the old
home. On my left lay the pleasant meadows with the silvery stream; on
my right the woods and spires of Vancey, and in the distance the
white-roofed farm-house, the only remnant of his property which my
father could now call his own.

"He shall have it all again," I said, half aloud, and then blushed at
my folly. What could I, who was hardly more than a mere boy, do?
Nothing, it seemed, and yet I did not altogether despair.

Once more I turned, and, following the high road, plodded along
steadily. It was the market-day at Reves, and the little town was
filled with people, peasants and farmers mostly, though here and there
a gaily-dressed gallant swaggered by, while the seat outside the
principal inn was occupied by half-a-dozen soldiers.

In the market-place I was stopped by more than one acquaintance, with
whom I laughed and jested for a few moments. A mile or so from the
town I sat down by the wayside and began to eat the food which Pierre