orn of vulgar prejudices, he felt a
thrill of strange emotion as he looked on these once familiar objects.

He could not overcome a feeling of sadness as scenes of the past rose up
before him.

How many events had occurred since he last walked along this path, and
received a friendly bow and smile from every villager.

Then life appeared to him like a fairy scene, in which his every wish
was gratified. And now, he had returned, dishonored, worn out, disgusted
with the realities of life, still tasting the bitter dregs of the cup
of shame, stigmatized, poverty-stricken, and friendless, with nothing to
lose, and nothing to look forward to.

The few villagers whom he met turned and stood gazing after this
dust-covered stranger, and wondered who he could be.

Upon reaching St. Jean's house, he found the door open; he walked into
the immense empty kitchen.

He rapped on the table, and was answered by a voice calling out:

"Who is there?"

The next moment a man of about forty years appeared in the doorway, and
seemed much surprised at finding a stranger standing in his kitchen.

"What will you have, monsieur?" he inquired.

"Does not St. Jean, the old valet of the Marquis of Clameran, live
here?"

"My father died five years ago, monsieur," replied the man in a sad
tone.

This news affected Louis painfully, as if he had expected this old
man to restore him some of his lost youth; the last link was gone. He
sighed, and, after a silence, said:

"I am the Marquis of Clameran."

The farmer, at these words, uttered an exclamation of joy. He seized
Louis's hand, and, pressing it with respectful attention, cried:

"You are the marquis! Alas!" he continued, "why is not my poor father
alive to see you? he would be so happy! His last words were about his
dear masters, and many a time did he sigh and mourn at not receiving any
news of you. He is beneath the sod now, resting after a well-spent life;
but I, Joseph, his son, am here to take his place, and devote my life to
your service. What an honor it is to have you in my house! Ah, my wife
will be happy to see you; she has all her life heard of the Clamerans."

Here he ran into the garden, and called: "Toinette! I say, Toinette!
Come here quickly!"

This cordial welcome delighted Louis. So many years had gone by since he
had been greeted with an expression of kindness, or felt the pressure of
a friendly hand.

In a few moments a handsome, dark-eyed young woman enter