and is always repeating it."

"Do you like living in this wild country?"

"Very much. I was born here, and I like it."

"But you have not always lived here?"

"No; my mother, who had lived in the city, placed me at school in her own
country, in Dijon. I received there the education of a young lady,
though there is not much to show for it now. I stayed there six years;
then my mother died, my father fell ill, and I came home."

"And did you not suffer from so sudden a change?"

"Not at all. You see I am really by nature a country girl. I wish you
might not have more trouble than I had, in getting accustomed to your new
way of living, in the chateau at Vivey. But," she added, going toward
the fire, "I think they are harnessing the horse, and you must be hungry.
Your driver has already primed himself with some toast and white wine.
I will not offer you the same kind of breakfast. I will get you some
coffee and cream."

He bent his head in acquiescence, and she brought him the coffee herself,
helping him to milk and toasted bread. He drank rapidly the contents of
the cup, nibbled at a slice of toast, and then, turning to his hostess,
said, with a certain degree of embarrassment:

"There is nothing left for me to do, Mademoiselle, but to express my most
heartfelt thanks for your kind hospitality. It is a good omen for me to