of obedience to orders written on its submissive curves; and she bent
it once more over her kettles; both she and the kettles were on the
bare floor. It was the poorest of all the Villerville interiors we had
as yet seen; the house was also, perhaps, the oldest in the village. It
and the old church had been opposite neighbors for several centuries.
The shop and the living-room were all in one; the low window was a
counter by day and a shutter by night. Within, the walls were bare as
were the floors. Three chairs with sunken leather covers, and a bed
with a mattress also sunken--a hollow in a pine frame, was the
equipment in furniture. The poverty was brutal; it was the naked,
unabashed poverty of the middle ages, with no hint of shame or effort
of concealment. The colossus whom the low roof covered was as
unconscious of the barrenness of his surroundings as were his own
walls. This hovel was his home; he had made us welcome with the manners
of a king.

Meanwhile the dog was sniffing at our skirts. After a tour of
observation and inspection he wagged his tail, gave a short bark, and
seated himself by Charm. The giant's eyes twinkled.

"You see, mesdames, it is a dog with a mind--he knows in an instant who
are the right sort. And eloquence, also--he is one who can make
speeches with his tail. A dog's tongue is in his tail, and this one
wags his like an orator!"

Some one else, as well as the dog, possessed the oratorical gift. The
cobbler's voice was the true speaker's voice--rich, vibrating,
sonorous, with a deep note of melody in it. Pose and gestures matched
with the voice; they were flexible and picturesquely suggestive.