t over his shoulder. They walked on,
side by side, in the direction of La Thuliere; the sun had set, and a
penetrating moisture, arising from the damp soil of the adjacent pasture
lands, encircled them in a bluish fog.

"So he is worse, your father, is he?" said Claudet, after a moment's
silence.

"He can not move from his armchair, his mental faculties are weakening,
and I am obliged to amuse him like a child. But how is it with yourself,
Claudet?" she asked, turning her frank, cordial gaze upon him. "You
have had your share of trouble since we last met, and great events have
happened. Poor Monsieur de Buxieres was taken away very suddenly!"

The close relationship that united Claudet with the deceased was a
secret to no one; Reine, as well as all the country people, knew and
admitted the fact, however irregular, as one sanctioned by time and
continuity. Therefore, in speaking to the young man, her voice had that
tone of affectionate interest usual in conversing with a bereaved friend
on a death that concerns him.

The countenance of the 'grand chasserot', which had cleared for a time
under her influence, became again clouded.

"Yes;" sighed he, "he was taken too soon!"

"And now, Claudet, you are sole master at the chateau?"

"Neither--master--nor even valet!" he returned, with such bitterness
that the young girl stood still with surprise.

"What do you mean?" she exclaimed, "was it not agreed with Monsieur de
Buxieres that you should inherit all his property?"

"Such was his intention, but he did not have time to put it in
execution; he died without leaving any will, and, as I am nothing in
the eye of the law, the patrimony will go to a distant relative, a de
Buxieres whom Monsieur Odouart did not even know."

Reine's dark eyes filled with tears.

"What a misfortune!" she exclaimed, "and who could have expected such a
thing? Oh! my poor Claudet!"

She was so moved, and spoke with such sincere compassion, that Claudet
was perhaps misled, and thought he read in her glistening eyes a
tenderer sentiment than pity; he trembled, took her hand, and held it
long in his.

"Thank you, Reine! Yes," he added, after a pause, "it is a rude shock
to wake up one morning without hearth or home, when one has been in the
habit of living on one's income."

"What do you intend to do?" inquired Reine, gravely.

Claudet shrugged his shoulders.

"To work for my bread--or, if I can find no suitable trade, enlist in a
reg