So actually she sat by him all through that delirious meal, talking
quietly to him in easy French, seeing that he was well looked after,
mixing the salad-dressing, and even helping him with her own hand. And,
later in the afternoon, while he was smoking in the courtyard, longing
for a sight of her as soon as her duties were done, she came again to
his side, and when he rose to meet her, she stood facing him a moment,
full of a perplexing sweet shyness before she spoke--

"My mother thinks you ought to know more of the beauties of our little
town, and _I_ think so too! Would M'sieur like me to be his guide,
perhaps? I can show him everything, for our family has lived here for
many generations."

She had him by the hand, indeed, before he could find a single word to
express his pleasure, and led him, all unresisting, out into the street,
yet in such a way that it seemed perfectly natural she should do so, and
without the faintest suggestion of boldness or immodesty. Her face
glowed with the pleasure and interest of it, and with her short dress
and tumbled hair she looked every bit the charming child of seventeen
that she was, innocent and playful, proud of her native town, and alive
beyond her years to the sense of its ancient beauty.

So they went over the town together, and she showed him what she
considered its chief interest: the tumble-down old house where her
forebears had lived; the sombre, aristocratic-looking mansion where her
mother's family dwelt for centuries, and the ancient market-place where
several hundred years before the witches had been burnt by the score.
She kept up a lively running stream of talk about it all, of which he
understood not a fiftieth part as he trudged along by her side, cursing