those around him, for his manner of bringing up had taught him to keep
his own counsel.

The fixed smile on his features entirely masked the angry feelings that
were working in his breast. He went through his daily tasks, which had
once been a pleasure to him, with utter disgust and loathing. His eyes
had been suddenly opened, and he now understood a host of things which
he had never before even endeavored to comprehend. He saw now that his
proper position was among the nobles, whom he never saw except when they
attended Mass at the little chapel in Bevron. The Count de Mussidan, so
haughty and imposing, with his snow-white hair; the aristocratic-looking
Marquis de Laurebourg, of whom the peasants stood in the greatest awe,
were always courteous and even cordial in their salutations, while the
noble dames smiled graciously upon him. Proud and haughty as they were,
they evidently looked upon his father and himself as their equals, in
spite of the coarse garments that they wore. The realization of these
facts effected a great change in Norbert. He was the equal of all these
people, and yet how great a gulf separated him from them. While he and
his father tramped to Mass in heavy shoes, the others drove up in
their carriages with powdered footmen to open the doors. Why was this
extraordinary difference? He knew enough of the value of crops and land
to know that his father was as wealthy as any of these gentlemen. The
laborers on the farm said that his father was a miser, and the villagers
asserted that he got up at night and gazed with rapture upon the
treasure that was hidden away from men's eyes.

"Norbert is an unhappy lad," they would say. "He who ought to be able to
command all the pleasures of life is worse off than our own children."

He also recollected that one day, as his father was talking to the