u have been waited upon by a slave all
your life. Yes, you have; and you have a slave now sitting at your
knee. People do not like being slaves now-a-days--nobody but me. Now I
like it of all things. So, what a pity to change!"

"I know," said the old man, sighing, "that I am apt to be peremptory. I
know it is difficult to please me sometimes. It is very late in life--I
am very old to set about improving: but I will try not to hurt any one
who will wait upon me, as I am afraid I have often hurt you, my dear. I
will make any effort, if I can only feel that you are safe. Some one
has been telling you stories of old times, I see. Perhaps you can ask
any servant that we may engage--you may make it your request that she
will bear with me."

"Oh, grandpapa! Stop, grandpapa! I cannot bear it," cried the sobbing
girl. "I never will joke again, if you do not see that it is because I
love you so, that I will venture anything rather than leave you. We all
love you dearly. Pierre would not for the world live with anybody else.
You know he would not. And that is just what I feel. But I will do
everything you wish. I will never refuse again--I will never jest, or
try, even for your own sake, to prevent your having all your own way.
Only be so kind, grandpapa, as never to say anything against yourself
again. Nobody else would dare to do such a thing to me, and I cannot
bear it."

"Well, well, love! I see now that no one has been babbling to you. We
will never quarrel any more. You will do as I wish, and we will have no
more disputing. Are they bringing our coffee?"

When Euphrosyne came out from placing her grandfather's pillows, and
bidding him good-night, she found Pierre lingering about, as if wanting
to speak to her.

"Have you anything to say to me. Pierre?"

"Only just to take the liberty of asking, Mademoiselle, whether you
could not possibly gratify my master in the thing he has set his heart
upon. If you could, Mademoiselle, you may rely on it, I would take
every care of him in your absence."

"I have no doubt, Pierre, of your doing your part."

"Your part and mine are not the same, I know, Mademoiselle. But he is
so persuaded of there being danger for you here, that everything you do
for him goes to his heart."

"Have _you_ that idea, Pierre?"

"Indeed, Mademoiselle, I know nothing about it--more than that it takes
a long time for people in a town, or an island, to live comfortably
toget