main's first action was to rush to Versailles and clasp in his arms
the love of his life. She, her eyes brimming with the happiness, faith,
and trustfulness of a pure young girl, rejoiced in the vindication of
her insulted knight.

News of another addition to his possessions arrived, while it brought a
grief. Events had been too much for the Chevalier de Bailleul. He died
in the latter part of the month of February, and a letter from the
intendant of his estates informed Germain both of the sad event and at
the same time that the veteran had bequeathed him Eaux Tranquilles and
his fortune. The intendant, a local attorney named Populus, quoted the
clauses of the will, and asked instructions from his new master.

CHAPTER XLII

A HARD SEASON

The first few days by Germain and Cyrene, after the death of de
Bailleul, were spent in genuine sorrow. Their thoughts were recalled to
those dear and delicious weeks at Fontainebleau, and they decided that
Germain should revisit Eaux Tranquilles and prepare it for their bridal.
Wishing to do so undisturbed by business he sent no word to his
intendant, but set out on the journey mounted on a good horse, along the
road by Bicetre and Corbeil. It was the beginning of March, the end of a
winter so severe as to have surpassed the memory of living men. The
Seine had been frozen over from Havre to Paris for the first time since
1709; and, added to the horrors of famine arising from destruction of
the last summer's harvest by hail, the icy fields and gleaming river now
had a terrible aspect to the shivering poor; and even to him, Canadian
though he was, accustomed to think of winter as a time of merriment, for
he thought of the misery of the people.

Towards evening he was forced by a hail storm to stop at the inn of
Grelot, a hamlet which adjoined the park of Eaux Tranquilles.

In the morning he was roused by voices in the village street, and saw by
the sunlight pouring in at the window that the day was well up and the
storm over. The number of voices, though not many, seemed to him
unusual for such a somnolent place at Grelot, so that he rose, took up
his clothing, which had been dried over night by the host and thrust in
at the door at daybreak, partly dressed himself, sat down at the window
and looked out from behind the shutters.

On the opposite side of the road he saw, sitting under a spreading oak
on a bench, the persons who were talking. The long boughs of the tree
w