t inevitable re-budding and reblossoming
was beautiful to see in this young human plant. M. de Talbrun,
Jacqueline's host, could not fail to perceive it. At first he had
been annoyed with Giselle for giving the invitation, having a habit of
finding fault with everything he had not ordered or suggested, by virtue
of his marital authority, and also because he hated above all things, as
he said, to have people in his house who were "wobegones." But in a week
he was quite reconciled to the idea of keeping Mademoiselle de Nailles
all the summer at the Chateau de Fresne. Never had Giselle known him to
take so much trouble to be amiable, and indeed Jacqueline saw him much
more to advantage at home than in Paris, where, as she had often said,
he diffused too strong an odor of the stables. At Fresne, it was more
easy to forgive him for talking always of his stud and of his kennel,
and then he was so obliging! Every day he proposed some new jaunt, an
excursion to see some view, to visit all the ruined chateaux or abbeys
in the neighborhood. And, with surprising delicacy, M. de Talbrun
refrained from inviting too many of his country neighbors, who might
perhaps have scared Jacqueline and arrested her gradual return to
gayety. They might also have interrupted his tete-a-tete with his wife's
guest, for they had many such conversations. Giselle was absorbed in the
duty of teaching her son his a, b, c. Besides, being very timid, she had
never ridden on horseback, and, naturally, riding was delightful to
her cousin. Jacqueline was never tired of it; while she paid as little
attention to the absurd remarks Oscar made to her between their gallops
as a girl does at a ball to the idle words of her partner. She supposed
it was his custom to talk in that manner--a sort of rough gallantry--but
with the best intentions. Jacqueline was disposed to look upon her life
at Fresne as a feast after a long famine. Everything was to her taste,
the whole appearance of this lordly chateau of the time of Louis
XIII, the splendid trees in the home park, the gardens laid out 'a la
Francais', decorated with art and kept up carefully. Everything,
indeed, that pertained to that high life which to Giselle had so little
importance, was to her delightful. Giselle's taste was so simple that it
was a constant subject of reproach from her husband. To be sure, it was
with him a general rule to find fault with her about everything. He did
not spare her his reproaches on