e."

"What do you pay for them in the market?"

D'Apreval, who had not the least idea, turned to his companion:

"What are you paying for poultry in Fecamp, my dear lady?"

"Four francs, and four francs, fifty centimes," she said with her eyes
full of tears, and the farmer's wife, who was looking at her askance, in
much surprise, asked:

"Is the lady ill, as she is crying?"

He did not know what to say, and replied with some hesitation:

"No ... no ... but she lost her watch as we came, a very handsome watch,
and that troubles her. If anybody should find it, please let us know."

Mother Benedict did not reply, as she thought it a very equivocal soft
of answer, but suddenly she exclaimed:

"Oh! here is my husband!"

She was the only one who had seen him, as she was facing the gate.
D'Apreval started, and Madame de Cadour nearly fell, as she turned round
suddenly on her chair.

A man who was bent nearly double and who was panting for breath, was
there, ten yards from them, dragging a cow at the end of a rope; and
without taking any notice of the visitors, he said:

"Confound it! What a brute!"

And he went past them, and disappeared in the cow-house.

Her tears had dried quickly, as she sat there startled, without a word,
and with the one thought in her mind, that this was her son, and
d'Apreval, whom the same thought had struck very unpleasantly, said in
an agitated voice:

"Is this Monsieur Benedict?"

"Who told you his name?" the wife asked, still rather suspiciously.

"The blacksmith at the corner of the highroad," he replied, and then
they were all silent, with their eyes fixed on the door of the
cow-house, which formed a sort of black hole in the wall of the
building. Nothing could be seen inside, but they heard a vague noise,
movements, and footsteps and the sound of hoofs, which were deadened by
the straw on the floor, and soon he reappeared in the door, wiping his
forehead, and went towards the house with long, slow strides. He passed
the strangers without seeming to notice them, and said to his wife:

"Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty."

Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar,
and left the two Parisians alone.

"Let us go, let us go Henri," Madame de Cadour said, nearly distracted
with grief, and so d'Apreval took her by the arm, helped her to rise,
and sustaining her with all his strength, for he felt that she was
nearly falling down, he le