THROUGH the great trees which framed the road on either side, Perrine could see beyond the hill the tops of some high chimneys and buildings.

"We're coming to Maraucourt," said Rosalie; "you'll see Monsieur Paindavoine's mansion soon, then the factories. We shan't see the village until we get down the other side of the hill. Over by the river there's the church and cemetery."

Then, as they neared the spot where the poplars were swaying, there came into view a beautiful chateau towering grandly above the trees, with its faÇade of stone gabled roofs and chimneys standing out magnificently in a park planted with trees and shrubs which stretched out as far as the meadows.

Perrine stopped short in amazement, whilst Rosalie continue to step out. This made them jolt the basket, whereupon Rosalie plumped it down on the ground and stretched herself.

"Ah, you think that fine, don't you?" said Rosalie, following Perrine's glance.

"Why, it's beautiful," said Perrine, softly.

"Well, old Monsieur Vulfran lives there all alone. He's got a dozen servants to wait on him, without counting the gardeners and stablemen who live in those quarters over there at the end of the park. That place over there is the electric power house for lighting up the chateau. Fine, ain't it? And you should see the inside! There's gold everywhere, and velvets, and such carpets! Them nephews want to live there with him, but he won't have 'em. He even eats his meals all alone."

They took up the basket and went on again. Soon they saw a general view of the works. But to Perrine's eyes there seemed only a confusion of buildings, some old, some new, just a great gray mass with big, tall chimneys everywhere. Then they came to the first houses of the village, with apple trees and pear trees growing in the gardens. Here was the village of which her father had spoken so often.

What struck her most was the number of people she saw. Groups of men, women and children dressed up in their Sunday clothes stood chatting before the houses or sat in the low rooms, the windows of which were thrown wide open. A mass of people, people everywhere. In the low-ceiling rooms, where those from outside could see all that was passing within, some were drinking bright colored drinks, others had jugs of cider, while others had on the tables before them black coffee or whisky. And what a tapping of glasses and voices raised in angry dispute!

"What a lot of people there seem to be drinking," said Perrine.

"That's because it's Sunday. They got two weeks' pay yesterday. They can't always drink like this; you'll see."

What was characteristic of most of the houses was that nearly all, although old and badly built of brick or wood, affected an air of coquetry, at least in the painting that embellished the doors and windows. This attracted the eye like a sign. And in truth it was a sign, for in default of other preparations, the bright paint gave a promise of cleanliness which a glance at the inside of the place belied at once.

"We've arrived," said Rosalie, pointing with her free hand to a small red brick house which stood a little way from the road, behind a ragged hedge. Adjoining the house was a store where general provisions were sold, and also liquor. The floors above were rented to the best lodgers, and behind the house was a building which was rented out to the factory hands. A little gate in the hedge led to a small garden planted with apple trees and to a gravel walk leading to the house.

As soon as Rosalie and Perrine entered the yard, a woman, still young, called out from the doorway: "Hurry up, you slow coach! Say, you take a time to go to Picquigny, don't you?"

"That's my Aunt Zenobie," whispered Rosalie; "she's none too nice."

"What yer whispering there?" yelled the disagreeable woman.

"I said that if somebody hadn't been there to help carry this basket I wouldn't be here by now," retorted Rosalie.

"You'd better hold your tongue!"

These words were uttered in such a shrill tone that they brought a tall old woman to the door.

"Who are you going on at now, Zenobie?" she asked, calmly.

"She's mad 'cause I'm late, grandmother; but the basket's awful heavy," said Rosalie.

"There, there!" said the grandmother, placidly; "put it down and go and get your supper; you'll find it kept warm on the stove."

"You wait for me here in the yard," said Rosalie to Perrine; "I'll be out in a minute and we'll have supper together. You go and buy your bread. You'll find the baker in the third house on the left. Hurry up."

When Perrine returned she found Rosalie seated at a table under a big apple tree. On the table were two plates full of meat stew and potatoes.

"Sit down and share my stew," said Rosalie.

"But ..." hesitated Perrine.

"You don't like to take it; you can. I asked my grandmother, and it's all right."

In that case Perrine thought that she should accept this hospitality, so she sat down at the table opposite her new friend.

"And it's all arranged about your lodging here," said Rosalie, with her mouth full of stew. "You've only to give your twenty-eight sous to grandmother. That's where you'll be."

Rosalie pointed to a house a part of which could be seen at the end of the yard; the rest of it was hidden by the brick house. It looked such a dilapidated old place that one wondered how it still held together.

"My grandmother lived there before she built this house," explained Rosalie. "She did it with the money that she got when she was nurse for Monsieur Edmond. You won't be comfortable down there as you would in this house, but factory hands can't live like rich people, can they?"

Perrine agreed that they could not.

At another table, standing a little distance from theirs, a man about forty years of age, grave, stiff, wearing a coat buttoned up and a high hat, was reading a small book with great attention.

"That's Mr. Bendit; he's reading his Bible," whispered Rosalie.

Then suddenly, with no respect for the gentleman's occupation, she said: "Monsieur Bendit, here's a girl who speaks English."

"Ah!" he said, without raising his eyes from his Bible.

Two minutes elapsed before he lifted his eyes and turned them to Perrine.

"Are you an English girl?" he asked in English.

"No, but my mother was," replied Perrine in the same language.

Without another word he went on with his reading.

They were just finishing their supper when a carriage coming along the road stopped at the gate.

"Why, it's Monsieur Vulfran in his carriage!" cried Rosalie, getting up from her seat and running to the gate.

Perrine did not dare leave her place, but she looked towards the road.

Two people were in the buggy. A young man was driving for an old man with white hair, who, although seated, seemed to be very tall. It was M. Paindavoine.

Rosalie went up to the buggy.

"Here is someone," said the young man, who was about to get out.

"Who is it?" demanded M. Paindavoine.

It was Rosalie who replied to this question.

"It's Rosalie, monsieur," she said.

"Tell your grandmother to come and speak to me," said the gentleman.

Rosalie ran to the house and came hurrying back with her grandmother.

"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran," said the old woman.

"Good day, FranÇoise."

"What can I do for you, sir; I'm at your service."

"I've come about your brother Omer. I've just come from his place. His drunken wife was the only person there and she could not understand anything."

"Omer's gone to Amiens; he comes back tonight."

"Tell him that I have heard that he has rented his hall to some rascals to hold a public meeting and ... I don't wish that meeting to take place."

"But if they've rented it, sir?"

"He can compromise. If he doesn't, the very next day I'll put him out. That's one of the conditions that I made. I'll do what I say. I don't want any meeting of that sort here."

"There have been some at Flexelles."

"Flexelles is not Maraucourt. I do not want the people of my village to become like those at Flexelles. It's my duty to guard against that. You understand? Tell Omer what I say. Good day, FranÇoise."

"Good day, Monsieur Vulfran."

He fumbled in his vest pocket.

"Where is Rosalie?"

"Here I am, Monsieur Vulfran."

He held out a ten cent piece.

"This is for you," he said.

"Oh, thank you, Monsieur Vulfran," said Rosalie, taking the money with a smile.

The buggy went off.

Perrine had not lost a word of what had been said, but what impressed her more than the actual words was the tone of authority in which they had been spoken. "I don't wish that meeting to take place." She had never heard anyone speak like that before. The tone alone bespoke how firm was the will, but the old gentleman's uncertain, hesitating gestures did not seem to accord with his words.

Rosalie returned to her seat, delighted.

"Monsieur Paindavoine gave me ten cents," she said.

"Yes, I saw him," replied Perrine.

"Let's hope Aunt Zenobie won't know, or she'll take it to keep it for me."

"Monsieur Paindavoine did not seem as though he knew you," said Perrine.

"Not know me? Why, he's my godfather!" exclaimed Rosalie.

"But he said 'Where is Rosalie?' when you were standing quite near him."

"That's because he's blind," answered Rosalie, placidly.

"Blind!" cried Perrine.

She repeated the word quite softly to herself two or three times.

"Has he been blind long?" she asked, in the same awed voice.

"For a long time his sight was failing," replied Rosalie, "but no one paid any attention; they thought that he was fretting over his son being away. Then he got pneumonia, and that left him with a bad cough, and then one day he couldn't see to read, then he went quite blind. Think what it would have meant to the town if he had been obliged to give up his factories! But no; he wasn't going to give them up; not he! He goes to business just the same as though he had his sight. Those who counted on being the master there, 'cause he fell ill have been put in their places." She lowered her voice. "His nephews and Talouel; they're the ones I mean."

Aunt Zenobie came to the door.

"Say, Rosalie, have you finished, you young loafer?" she called.

"I've only just this minute got through," answered Rosalie, defiantly.

"Well, there are some customers to wait on ... come on."

"I'll have to go," said Rosalie, regretfully. "Sorry I can't stay with you."

"Oh, don't mind me," said little Perrine, politely.

"See you tonight."

With a slow, reluctant step Rosalie got up and dragged herself to the house.