ng at the same time, "My
dear cousins, this young man belongs to me, he is related to me, and
whatever expenses you may incur for him, I shall return to you again:
only do me the favour to call him also cousin Martin and be kind to
him."

"Aye! aye!" Smiled Barbara, "last week, I could not have supposed, that
all on a sudden my family would thus increase, sit down then, cousin
Martin, and you Godfred, take care only not to make blunders before
strangers." Grace was said, and the little Eveline made the sign of the
cross, just as gravely as she saw the old people do; Godfred had
prepared a separate soup for the invalid Martin, and would not allow
him to eat of such meats as he deemed injurious to him. Godfred spoke
little, he seemed as if he had almost entirely renounced the habit of
speech in the society of his too loquacious spouse, but on that account
he had imbibed the peculiarity of frequently expressing aloud, when a
pause occurred, whatever was at that moment passing in the train of his
thoughts, for he listened but seldom to Barbara's wonderful
phraseology.

"The fever will now be kept under," said he; just then Martin perceived
that he was the subject of discourse, and the Lord of Beauvais would
willingly have inquired more closely into the state of the invalid, if
the dame had not again launched out into narrations and far-fetched
ideas.

"A little deeper and all would have been over," continued Godfred.

After the repast, Martin, for whom a room had been prepared near the
Counsellor of Parliament, lay down. The rustic doctor, who had already
fed the dog, now examined his wounds; Eveline and her father retired to
the room up stairs.

"Have I done all well?" asked the little girl. "Quite well, my child,"
answered the father, "I am satisfied with you."

"That is a beautiful rule," recommenced Eveline, "to pray before and
after the repast. Why did we not do the same at home?"

"You are not wrong, my child," replied the Counsellor; "for fear of
being like tradespeople, or appearing very hypocritical, much that is
good is neglected!"

"Ah! what a beautiful prayer the old woman said before dinner,"
continued Eveline: "All eyes wait upon thee!"--"Do you know too, papa,
how at home, when our Hector, or the other dogs, were fed in the hall,
all gazed up so fixedly into the eyes of old Frantz? and as he turned
his head, so went all the eyes like so many torches, right and left,
still peeping at the old man, wi