the soft, ever-changing country of Touraine, a land that you learn to
see afresh in all the thousand chance effects produced by daylight and
sky and the time of year.

The children scampered through the orchard, scrambled about the
terraces, chased the lizards, scarcely less nimble than they;
investigating flowers and seeds and insects, continually referring all
questions to their mother, running to and fro between the garden and
the summer-house. Children have no need of toys in the country,
everything amuses them.

Mme. Willemsens sat at her embroidery during their lessons. She never
spoke, nor did she look at masters or pupils; but she followed
attentively all that was said, striving to gather the sense of the
words to gain a general idea of Louis' progress. If Louis asked a
question that puzzled his master, his mother's eyes suddenly lighted
up, and she would smile and glance at him with hope in her eyes. Of
Marie she asked little. Her desire was with her eldest son. Already
she treated him, as it were, respectfully, using all a woman's, all a
mother's tact to arouse the spirit of high endeavor in the boy, to
teach him to think of himself as capable of great things. She did this
with a secret purpose, which Louis was to understand in the future;
nay, he understood it already.

Always, the lesson over, she went as far as the gate with the master,
and asked strict account of Louis' progress. So kindly and so winning
was her manner, that his tutors told her the truth, pointing out where
Louis was weak, so that she might help him in his lessons. Then came
dinner, and play after dinner, then a walk, and lessons were learned
till bedtime.