oble rental in an unpainted box or in a miserable wardrobe, and a fat
pocketbook inside a patched coat; when therefore my eyes fell on an
alcove packed full of stockings, I concluded, and quite rightly, that I
was in the house of a rich hosier. (In parenthesis it may be said that I
do not know any poor ones.)

A middle-aged, gray-haired, but still strong man rose from his slice and
offered me his hand with these words: "Welcome!--with permission to ask,
where does the good friend come from?"

Do not jeer at so ill-mannered and straightforward a question! the heath
peasant is quite as hospitable as the Scotch laird, and but a little
more curious; after all, he cannot be blamed for wanting to know who
his guest is.

When I had told him who I was and whence I came, he called his wife, who
immediately put all the delicacies of the house before me and begged me
insistently, with good-hearted kindness, to eat and drink, although my
hunger and thirst made all insistence unnecessary.

I was in the midst of the repast and a political talk with my host, when
a young and exceedingly beautiful peasant girl came in, whom I should
undoubtedly have declared a lady who had fled from cruel parents and an
unwished-for marriage, had not her red hands and unadulterated peasant
dialect convinced me that no disguise had taken place. She nodded in a
friendly way, cast a passing glance under the table, went out and came
in soon again with a dish of milk and water, which she put down on the
floor with the words, "Your dog may need something too."

I thanked her for her attention; but this was fully given to the big
dog, whose greediness soon made the dish empty, and who now in his way
thanked the giver by rubbing himself up against her; and when she raised
her arms, a little intimidated, Chasseur misunderstood the movement, put
himself on the alert, and forced the screaming girl backwards toward the
alcove. I called the dog back and explained his good intentions.

I would not have invited the reader's attention to so trivial a matter,
but to remark that everything is becoming to the beautiful; for indeed
this peasant girl showed, in everything she said and did, a certain
natural grace which could not be called coquetry unless you will so call
an innate unconscious instinct.

When she had left the room I asked the parents if this was their
daughter. They answered in the affirmative, adding that she was an
only child.

"You won't keep he