the publicans."

Dechartre and Madame Martin were struck by the unexpected sincerity of
his accent.

He added:

"I like the King. I am sure of my loyalty, but the misfortunes of the
peasants move me."

The truth was, he pursued with obstinacy a single aim: to reestablish the
domain of Casentino that his father, Prince Carlo, an officer of Victor
Emmanuel, had left devoured by usurers. His affected gentleness
concealed his stubbornness. He had only useful vices. It was to become
a great Tuscan landowner that he had dealt in pictures, sold the famous
ceilings of his palace, made love to rich old women, and, finally, sought
the hand of Miss Bell, whom he knew to be skilful at earning money and
practised in the art of housekeeping. He really liked peasants. The
ardent praises of Choulette, which he understood vaguely, awakened this
affection in him. He forgot himself enough to express his mind:

"In a country where master and servants form one family, the fate of the
one depends on that of the others. Taxes despoil us. How good are our
farmers! They are the best men in the world to till the soil."

Madame Martin confessed that she should not have believed it. The
country of Lombardy alone seemed to her to be well cultivated. Tuscany
appeared a beautiful, wild orchard.

The Prince replied, smilingly, that perhaps she would not speak in that