benevolent face, and he liked to talk of Simon Fougere, and made the
villagers tell him the story of his death over and over again. Sometimes
he was seen to listen with tears in his eyes.

"He knew him, that's sure!" said the peasants.

He selected a man and his wife to keep the inn. They had two children, a
boy and a girl. The girl was named Francine. This completed the
resemblance to the past. As a schoolmaster, Pierre appointed an old
soldier, who was intelligent and honest.

Once more Leigoutte began to take heart. Pierre Labarre spent several
days each year in the village, and yet the good people knew nothing of
him more than his name. Pierre Labarre was not the real benefactor, who
slept in his tomb, but when dying he had said to his old servant:

"I have been unfaithful to my duty toward Simon. I have been cowardly
toward him. I have a large amount for my grandchildren, where, you alone
will know. Seek these children, and make them rich. If Fate be against
us, if you cannot find these children, consecrate this fortune to making
the name of Simon beloved. Go to the poor village of Leigoutte, and let
those who loved him, that is, all who knew him, be the heirs of that son
whom the Marquis de Fongereues adored in his heart."

For many years he sought in vain for the smallest clue, but one day,
after much discouragement, a new hope sprang to life in his heart. It
was when the so-called Marquis de Fongereues came to demand at his hands
the secret entrusted to the old man by his master. The very violence of
the two men on that day proved that Simon's son was living. Had he been
dead, the heirs of the Fongereues would have applied to the courts.

Then Pierre Labarre resumed his search, and an old man was continually
seen on all the highways and by-ways of France, entering the humblest
cottages and asking, in tremulous tones:

"Do you remember? It was in 1814."

But this was ten years ago. No one had seen two children flying for
their lives. How many hopes were based upon a word, and how many
disappointments followed!

Finally, he determined to act on the last words of his dying master, and
he went to Leigoutte. It was an idea of his own to restore to Leigoutte
its old look, the look it had one day long before when Simon Fougere
gave him a seat at his fireside, and Jacques looked at the stranger with
his big, earnest eyes, while Cinette ran around the room.

The evening of which we write, this old servant of