th their visit. It was evident that
Patsey had become a prime favourite with her husband's family.
Jean's sister Louise was assiduous in teaching her French, and she
had already begun to make some progress. Louise and her mother were
constantly running across to the little pavilion, on some errand or
other; and Patsey spent as much of her time with them as she did in
her own house.

Jean's absences seldom exceeded ten days, and he generally spent a
week at home before sailing again. He had driven her over to stay,
for three or four days, at a small estate of his own, some forty
miles to the southeast of Nantes, in the heart of what was called
the Bocage--a wild country, with thick woods, narrow lanes, high
hedges, and scattered villages and farms, much more English in
appearance than the country round Nantes. The estate had come to
him from an aunt. Everything here was very interesting to Patsey;
the costumes of the women and children, the instruments of
husbandry, the air of freedom and independence of the people, and
the absence of all ceremony, interested and pleased her. She did
not understand a single word of the patois spoken to her by the
peasants, and which even Jean had some difficulty in following,
although he had spent a good deal of his time at the little chateau
during the lifetime of his aunt.

"Should you like to live here, when not at sea, Jean?" asked
Patsey.

"Yes, I would rather live here than at Nantes. Next to a life at
sea, I should like one quite in the country. There is plenty to do
here. There is the work on the place to look after, there is
shooting, there is visiting, and visiting here means something
hearty, and not like the formal work in the town. Here no one
troubles his head over politics. They may quarrel as they like, in
Paris, but it does not concern La Vendee.

"Here the peasants love their masters, and the masters do all in
their power for the comfort and happiness of the peasants. It is
not as in many other parts of France, where the peasants hate the
nobles, and the nobles regard the peasants as dirt under their
feet. Here it is more like what I believe it was in England, when
you had your troubles, and the tenants followed their lords to
battle. At any rate, life here would be very preferable to being in
business with my father, in Nantes. I should never have settled
down to that; and as my elder brother seems specially made for that
sort of life, fortunately I was able to