an emigre sat under
the trees opposite the school-room. He had gathered the village children
about him. Night was coming on, but the spring air was soft and sweet.
He spoke in a low voice, for the authorities of the village might have
considered his words as somewhat of an incendiary nature. He said,
softly:

"In other days, in Simon Fougere's school, all the children said, 'Vive
la France! Vive la Republique!'"

And the little children repeated these words: "Vive la France! Vive la
Republique!"

At this moment a strange scene took place on the Square. Two shadows,
dimly seen in the twilight, were kneeling before the inn. No one had
seen them approach. Pierre Labarre was the first to notice them, and he
felt a quick contraction of the heart that heralded some unlooked-for
event. He rose quickly, and signed to the children to keep perfectly
still. He nearly reached the two unknown without their hearing him. He
saw that one was endeavoring to raise the other, who seemed to be
infirm. She extended her hand to the inn, and seemed to be saying
something, and then the two slowly mounted the steps of the inn.

Pierre, who was very near them, heard a sob. Who could they be? Pierre
asked himself. The two strangers were now in the large room, where
nothing seemed changed since the day that the wounded soldier leaned
against the wall, exhausted by suffering and fatigue. There was the huge
chimney, and there the shining tables.

The infirm woman now walks unaided. She goes straight to the fireplace,
and seats herself in a chair. She looks at the door eagerly and
expectantly.

Labarre again asked himself who this woman was, and what frightful
accident had so injured her. Suddenly, while Labarre was watching her,
the woman smiled.

"Ah! you have come, Simon!" she said with a smile, as if speaking to
some one who had just come in. "The children are waiting for you, and
the soup is ready. Jacques has been good, but you must talk to
Cinette--she is a perfect little fiend, sometimes!"

Labarre, with his heart in his mouth, clutched at the wall to prevent
himself from falling.

"Come! Cinette--come; you must not be naughty!"

It was plain to Labarre who this person was--he had heard her voice
before. But this girl--who was she?

The old man now entered the room. The girl saw him, and said,
apologetically:

"Pray, do not scold us--we mean no harm."

"Whoever asks hospitality at this door receives it," answered Labarre.
"