now anyone unless he was free to say what he liked.

Summer came round. The Merouls knew no greater pleasure than to
receive their old friends in their country house at Tourbeville. It
was an intimate and healthy pleasure, the pleasure of homely
gentlefolk who had spent most of their lives in the country. They used
to go to the nearest railway station to meet some of their guests, and
drove them to the house in their carriage, watching for compliments on
their district, on the rapid vegetation, on the condition of the roads
in the department, on the cleanliness of the peasants' houses, on the
bigness of the cattle they saw in the fields, on everything that met
the eye as far as the edge of the horizon.

They liked to have it noticed that their horse trotted in a wonderful
manner for an animal employed a part of the year in field-work; and
they awaited, with anxiety the newcomer's opinion on their family
estate, sensitive to the slightest word, grateful for the slightest
gracious attention.

Joseph Mouradour was invited, and he announced his arrival.

The wife and the husband came to meet the train, delighted to have the
opportunity of doing the honors of their house.

As soon as he perceived them, Joseph Mouradour jumped out of his
carriage with a vivacity which increased their satisfaction. He
grasped their hands warmly, congratulated them, and intoxicated them
with compliments.

He was quite charming in his manner as they drove along the road to
the house; he expressed astonishment at the height of the trees, the
excellence of the crops, and the quickness of the horse.

When he placed his foot on the steps in front of the chateau, M. de
Meroul said to him with a certain friendly solemnity:

"Now you are at home."

Joseph Mouradour answered: "Thanks old fellow; I counted on that. For
my part, besides, I never put myself out with my friends. That's the
only hospitality I understand."

Then, he went up to his own room, where he put on the costume of a
peasant, as he was pleased to describe it, and he came down again not
very long after, attired in blue linen, with yellow boots, in the
careless rig-out of a Parisian out for a holiday. He seemed, too to
have become more common, more jolly, more familiar, having assumed
along with his would-be rustic garb a free and easy swagger which he
thought suited the style of dress. His new apparel somewhat shocked M.
and Madame de Meroul who even at home on their estate a