she had let old Coco go at her own will, and the old
horse, taking advantage of her freedom, shambled along calmly from one
side of the road to the other, sniffing the odor of the warm hay that
the breeze wafted to his nostrils.

When Perrine stopped talking her grandfather remained silent for some
time. Knowing that he could not see her, she fixed her eyes on his face
and she read in his expression as much sadness as annoyance.

"No harm shall come to you," he said at last. "I shall not mention what
you have told me, and if anyone wants to take revenge on you for
opposing their attempts I shall be near to protect you. I thought
something like this would happen, but it will not occur a second time.
In the future you will sit at the little table that is in my office. I
hardly think that they'll try to question you before me. But as they
might try to do so after you leave off work, over at Mother Francoise's
where you eat, I shall take you to my home to live with me. You will
have a room in the chateau, and you will eat at my table. As I am
expecting to have some correspondence with persons in India, and I
shall receive letters in English and cables, you alone will know about
them. I must take every precaution, for they will do their utmost to
make you talk. I shall be able to protect you if you are by my side;
besides, this will be my reply to those who try to force you to speak,
as well as a warning if they still try to tempt you. Then, also, it will
be a reward for you."

Perrine, who had been trembling with anxiety when M. Vulfran commenced
to speak, was now so overcome with joy that she could find no words with
which to reply.

"I had faith in you, child," continued the old man, "from the moment I
knew what struggle you had made against poverty. When one is as brave as
you, one is honest. You have proved to me that I have not made a
mistake, and that I can be proud of you. It is as though I have known
you for years. I am a very lonely and unhappy man. What is my wealth to
me? It is a heavy burden if you have not the health to enjoy it. And yet
there are those who envy me. There are seven thousand men and women who
depend upon me for a living. If I failed there would be misery and
hunger and perhaps death for many. I must keep up for them. I must
uphold the honor of this house which I have built up, little by little.
It is my joy, my pride ... and yet ... I am blind!"

The last words were said with such bitterne