Despite Mrs. Frost's questions, despite his own voluble replies, Monsieur
de Boisdhyver gave no hint, that there was any deeper reason for his
seeking exile at the Inn of the Red Oak than that he desired rest and
quiet and had been assured that he would find them there. And who had so
complimented their simple abode of hospitality?

"Ah, madame," he murmured, lifting his tiny hands, "so many!"

"But I fear, monsieur," replied his hostess, "that you, who are
accustomed to the luxuries of a splendid city like Paris, to so many
things of which we read, will find little to interest and amuse you in
our remote countryside."

"As for interest, madame," the Marquis protested, "there are the beauties
of nature, your so delightful household, my few books, my writing; and
for amusement, I have my violin;--I so love to play. You will not
mind?--perhaps, enjoy it?"

"Indeed yes," said Mrs. Frost. "Dan, too, is a fiddler after a fashion;
and as for Nancy, she has a passion for music, and dreams away many an
evening while my son plays his old tunes."

"Ah, yes," said the Marquis, "Mademoiselle Nancy, I have not the pleasure
to see her this morning?"

"No," replied Mrs. Frost, flushing a trifle at the recollection of why
Nancy was not present, "she is somewhat indisposed--a mere trifle. You
will see her later in the day. But, monsieur, you should have come to us
in the spring or the summer, for then the country is truly beautiful;
now, with these snow-bound roads, when not even the stagecoach passes, we