we will talk about it presently."

She had taken the light from the driver, and placed it on an adjacent
table with her plants. In the twinkling of an eye, she removed her hood,
unfastened her shawl, and then knelt down in front of the sick man, after
kissing him tenderly on the forehead. From the corner where Julien had
seated himself, he could hear her soothing voice. Its caressing tones
contrasted pleasantly with the harsh accent of a few minutes before.

"You were longing for me, papa," said she, "but you see, I could not
leave before all the sacks of potatoes had been laid in the wagon.
Now everything has been brought in, and we can sleep in peace. I thought
of you on the way, and I have brought you a fine bouquet of wild fruits.
We shall enjoy looking them over tomorrow, by daylight. Now, this is the
time that you are to drink your bouillon like a good papa, and then as
soon as we have had our supper Guite and I will put you to bed nice and
warm, and I will sing you a song to send you to sleep."

She rose, took from the sideboard a bowl which she filled from a saucepan
simmering on the stove, and then, without taking any notice of her
visitors, she returned to the invalid. Slowly and with delicate care she
made him swallow the soup by spoonfuls. Julien, notwithstanding the
feeling of ill-humor caused by the untoward happenings of the evening,
could not help admiring the almost maternal tenderness with which the
young girl proceeded in this slow and difficult operation. When the bowl
was empty she returned to the stove, and at last bethought herself of her
guests.

"Excuse me, Monsieur, but I had to attend to my father first. If I
understood quite aright, you were going to Vivey."