of throwing it made his heart so sick with the contrast with the
'paidling in the burns' of his childhood, that he had no inclination to
continue the attempt, either in the slow canal or the broadening river.

He was still very shy with the Countess, who was not in spirits to set
him at ease; and the Abbe puzzled him, as is often the case when
inexperienced strangers encounter unacknowledged deficiency. The
perpetual coaxing chatter, and undisguised familiarity of La Jeunesse
with the young ecclesiastic did not seem to the somewhat haughty cast
of his young Scotch mind quite becoming, and he held aloof; but with
the two children he was quite at ease, and was in truth their great
resource.

He made Ulysse's fishing-rod, baited it, and held the boy when he used
it--nay, he once even captured a tiny fish with it, to the ecstatic
pity of both children. He played quiet games with them, and told them
stories--conversed on Telemaque with Estelle, or read to her from his
one book, which was Robinson Crusoe--a little black copy in pale print,
with the margins almost thumbed away, which he had carried in his
pocket when he ran away from school, and nearly knew by heart.

Estelle was deeply interested in it, and varied in opinion whether she
should prefer Calypso's island or Crusoe's, which she took for as much
matter of fact as did, a century later, Madame Talleyrand, when, out of
civility to Mr. Robinson, she inquired after 'ce bon Vendredi.'

She inclined to think she should prefer Friday to the nymphs.

'A whole quantity of troublesome womenfolk to fash one,' said Arthur,
who had not arrived at the age of gallantry.