t a gleam of light in passing a low meadow
between two hills, and for a moment took shape as a barge, then was lost
again, and could not be distinguished from the water. Another moment, and
it reappeared more distinctly; it was indeed a barge, and now the horse
could be seen towing it against the current. Again it was lost at a bend
of the river shaded by willows, and they had to resign themselves to
incertitude for several minutes. Then a white handkerchief was waved on
the prow of the boat, and Monsieur de Lamotte uttered a joyful
exclamation.

"It is indeed they!" he cried. "Do you see them, Monsieur le cure? I see
my boy; he is waving the handkerchief, and his mother is with him. But I
think there is a third person--yes, there is a man, is there not? Look
well."

"Indeed," said the cure, "if my bad sight does not deceive me, I should
say there was someone seated near the rudder; but it looks like a child."

"Probably someone from the neighbourhood, who has profited by the chance
of a lift home."

The boat was advancing rapidly; they could now hear the cracking of the
whip with which the servant urged on the tow-horse. And now it stopped,
at an easy landing-place, barely fifty paces from the terrace. Madame de
Lamotte landed with her son and the stranger, and her husband descended
from the terrace to meet her. Long before he arrived at the garden gate,
his son's arms were around his neck.

"Are you quite well, Edouard ?"

"Oh yes, perfectly."

"And your mother?"

"Quite well too. She is behind, in as great a hurry to meet you as I am.
But she can't run as I do, and you must go half-way."

"Whom have you brought with you?"

"A gentleman from Paris."

"From Paris?"

"Yes, a Monsieur Derues. But mamma will tell you all about that. Here
she is."

The cure and the monk arrived just as Monsieur de Lamotte folded his wife
in his arms. Although she had passed her fortieth year, she was still
beautiful enough to justify her husband's eulogism. A moderate plumpness
had preserved the freshness and softness of her skin; her smile was
charming, and her large blue eyes expressed both gentleness and goodness.
Seen beside this smiling and serene countenance, the appearance of the
stranger was downright repulsive, and Monsieur de Lamotte could hardly
repress a start of disagreeable surprise at the pitiful and sordid aspect
of this diminutive person, who stood apart, looking overwhelmed by
conscious inferi