FABRY had left the room, leaving the grandfather and his granddaughter together. For a long time the old man and the girl sat with their arms about each other. They only spoke now and again, just to exchange a word of affection.

"My little granddaughter ... my boy's little girl," murmured the blind man, stroking her curls.

"My grandpapa," murmured Perrine, rubbing her soft cheek against his.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?" he asked at last.

"But didn't I try several times?" replied Perrine. "Do you remember what you said to me the last time I spoke of dear mother and myself. You said: 'Understand, never speak to me again of those wretched creatures.'"

"But could I guess that you were my granddaughter?" he said.

"If I had come straight to you, don't you think you would have driven me away and not have listened to me?" asked Perrine.

"Ah," said the blind man, sadly, "who knows what I would have done!"

"I thought so," said Perrine, "and I thought it best not to let you know me until, like mama said, 'you would get to love me.'"

"And you have waited so long, and you had so many proofs of my affection."

"But was it the affection of a grandfather? I did not dare think so," said Perrine.

"When I began to suspect that you were my son's child, I then quickly got positive proofs, and I gave you every chance to tell me that you were. Finally I employed Fabry, who, with his investigations, forced you to throw yourself into my arms. If you had spoken sooner, my little darling, you would have spared me many doubts."

"Yes," said Perrine sweetly, "but we are so happy now, and doesn't that prove that what I did was all for the best?"

"Well, all is well. We will leave it at that. Now tell me all about your father ... my boy."

"I cannot speak to you of my father without speaking of my mother," said Perrine gravely. "They both loved me so much, and I loved them just the same."

"My little girl," said the blind man, "what Fabry has just told me of her has touched me deeply. She refused to go to the hospital where she might have been cured because she would not leave you alone in Paris...."

"Oh, yes; you would have loved her," cried Perrine; "my darling mother."

"Talk to me about her," said the old man, "about them both."

"Yes," said Perrine; "I will make you know her and then you will love her."

Perrine told about their life before they lost all their money; then about their travels through the various countries and the wanderings over the mountains; then of her father's illness and his death, and how she and her sick mother journeyed through France with the hope that they could reach Maraucourt in time before the sick woman died.

While they were talking they could hear vague sounds outside in the garden.

"What is the matter out there?" asked M. Vulfran. Perrine went to the window. The lawns and drive were black with a crowd of men, women and children. They were dressed in their Sunday clothes; many of them carried banners and flags. This crowd, between six and seven thousand people, reached outside the grounds to the public park, and the murmur of their voices had reached the ears of the blind man and had turned his attention from Perrine's story, great though it was.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It is your birthday today," said Perrine, smiling, "and all your men are here to celebrate it and to thank you for all you have done for them and their families."

"Oh!..."

The blind man walked to the window as though he could see them. He was recognized and a murmur ran through the crowd.

"Mon Dieu," he murmured, "how terrible they would be if they were against us." For the first time he realized the strength of the masses which he controlled.

"Yes," said Perrine, "but they are with us because we are with them."

"Yes, little girl, and it is all due to you," he replied. "This is very different from the day when the service for your dear father was held in that empty church."

"Yes, they are all here now," said Perrine, "and this is the Order of the Day, grandpapa dear: I am to guide you to the steps exactly at two o'clock. From there everyone will be able to see you. A man representing each village where you have your factories will come up the steps, and fatherly old Gathoye in the name of all is to make a speech."

At this moment the clock struck two.

"Now give me your hand, grandpapa, dear," said Perrine.

They reached the top of the steps and a great cheer broke out. Then the dear old Gathoye, who was the oldest employÉ, came forward alone. He was followed by the five delegates. Ten times the old man had been made to go over his speech that morning.

"Monsieur Vulfran, sir," he began, "it is to wish you ... it is to congratulate you ... to congratulate you on...."

Here he stopped short and began gesticulating with his hands, and the crowd, who saw his eloquent gestures, thought that he making an elaborate speech.

After some vain efforts, during which he scratched his head several times, he said: "This is how it is: I had a fine speech all ready, but I've gone and forgot all I got to say. I had to congratulate you and thank you in the name of all from the bottom of our hearts...."

He raised his hand solemnly.

"I swear that's so on the faith of your oldest employÉ, Gathoye."

Although the speech was very incoherent, nevertheless it touched M. Vulfran deeply. With his hand on Perrine's shoulder, he moved forward to the balustrade. There all could see him from below.

"My friends," he called out in a loud voice, "your sincere kind wishes give me the greatest pleasure, all the more so as you bring them to me on the happiest day of my life, the day when I have found my little granddaughter, the daughter of my only son whom I have lost. You know her; you have seen her at the factory. She will go on with the work we have already begun, and I promise you that your future, and your children's future, is in good hands."

Thereupon he leaned down towards Perrine and before she could protest he lifted her up in his arms that were still strong, and presented her to the crowd, then kissed her tenderly.

Then a deafening cheer rang out. It was continued for several minutes. Cheers came from the mouths of seven thousand men, women and children. Then, as the Order of the Day had been previously arranged, a line was formed and in single file they passed before their old chief and his granddaughter. With a bow and a hearty wish each man passed by.

"Ah, grandpapa, if you could only see their kind faces!" cried Perrine.

But there were some faces that were not exactly radiant. The two nephews certainly looked very glum when, after the ceremony, they came up to their cousin to offer their congratulations.

"As for me," said Talouel, who did not mean to lose any time in paying court to the young heiress, "I had always supposed...."

The excitement of the day proved too much for M. Vulfran. The doctor was called in.

"You can understand, doctor," said the blind man anxiously, "how much I want to see my little granddaughter. You must get me into a state so that I can have this operation."

"That is just it," said the doctor cheerily, "you must not have all this excitement. You must be perfectly calm. Now that this beautiful weather has come, you must go out, but you must keep quiet, and I guarantee that as soon as your cough has gone we shall be able to have a successful operation."

And the doctor's words came true. A month after M. Vulfran's birthday two specialists came down from Paris to perform the operation.

When they wished to put him under an anesthetic he refused.

"If my granddaughter will have the courage to hold my hand," he said, "you will see that I will be brave. Is it very painful?"

They would use cocaine to alleviate the pain.

The operation was over. Then came five or six days of waiting. The patient was kept in a dark room. Then at last the grandfather was allowed to see his little granddaughter.

"Ah, if I had only had my eyes," he cried as he gazed at Perrine's beautiful little face, "I should have recognized her at the first glance. What fools! Couldn't anyone have seen the likeness to her father? This time Talouel would have been right if he had said that he 'supposed'...."

They did not let him use his eyes for long. Again the bandage was put on and was kept on for thirty days. Then one of the oculists who had remained at the chateau went up to Paris to select the glasses which would enable him to read and see at a distance.

What M. Vulfran desired most, now that he had seen Perrine's sweet face, was to go out and see his works, but this needed great precaution, and the trip had to be postponed for a time, for he did not wish to be closed up in a landau with the windows up, but to use his old phaeton and be driven by Perrine and show himself with her everywhere. For that they had to wait for a warm, sunny day.

At last the day they wanted came. The sky was blue, the air soft and warm. After luncheon Perrine gave the order to Bastien for the phaeton with old Coco to be at the door.

"Yes, at once, mademoiselle," he said with a smile.

Perrine was surprised at the tone of his reply and his smile; but she paid no more attention to it, as she was busy fussing about her grandfather so that he would not take cold.

Presently Bastien came to say that the phaeton was ready. Perrine's eyes did not leave her grandfather as he walked forwards and down the steps alone. When they reached the last step a loud bray made her start. She looked up.

There stood a donkey harnessed to a phaeton! A donkey, and that donkey was like Palikare, a Palikare shiny and glossy, with polished shoes and adorned with a beautiful yellow harness with blue tassels. The donkey, with his neck stretched out, continued to bray. In spite of the groom's hold upon him he turned and tried to get to Perrine.

"Palikare!" she cried.

She flew to him and flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, grandpapa, what a lovely surprise!" she cried, dancing around her dear Palikare.

"You don't owe it to me," said her grandfather. "Fabry bought it from that ragpicker to whom you sold it. The office staff offer it as a gift to their old comrade."

"Oh, hasn't Monsieur Fabry got a good, kind heart!" cried Perrine.

"Yes, he thought of it, but your cousins did not," said M. Vulfran. "I have ordered a pretty cart from Paris for him. This phaeton is not the thing for him."

They got up into the carriage and Perrine took the reins delightedly.

"Where shall we go first, grandpapa?" she asked.

"Why, to the log cabin," he said. "Don't you think I want to see the little nest where you once lived, my darling?"

He referred to the cabin on the island where she had lived for a time the preceding year. It remained fondly in his mind. She drove on to the entrance and helped her grandfather alight at the path.

The cabin seemed just the same as when Perrine left it.

"How strange," said M. Vulfran, "that only a few steps from a great industrial center you were able to live the life of a savage here."

"In India we led a real savage life," said Perrine. "Everything around us belonged to us there, but here, I had no right to this and I was often very afraid."

After M. Vulfran had inspected the little log hut he wanted to see the crÈche at Maraucourt.

He thought that he would easily recognize it, as he had so often discussed the plans with Fabry, but when he found himself at the entrance, and was able to see at a glance all the other rooms, the dormitory where the little babies were asleep in their rose and blue cribs according to the sex, the playroom where those who could walk were playing, the kitchen, the lavatory, he was surprised and delighted.

Using large glass doors, the architect had cleverly made his plans so that from the first room the mothers could see all that went on in the other rooms where they were not allowed to enter.

In the nursery the children sprang forward and jumped upon Perrine, showing her the playthings that they had in their hands.

"I see that you are known here," said M. Vulfran.

"Known!" replied Mlle. Belhomme, greeting them. "She is loved by all; she is a little mother to them, and no one can play like she can."

M. Vulfran put his arms affectionately around his granddaughter as they went on to the carriage.

They returned home slowly as evening fell. Then as they passed from one hill to another, they found themselves overlooking the surrounding country, where new roofs and tall chimneys could be seen everywhere.

M. Vulfran took Perrine's hand.

"All that is your work, child," he said; "I only thought of business. See what you have done. But so that this can all be continued in the years to come, we shall have to find you a husband, one who will be worthy of you, who will work for us. We will not ask anything more of him. I think one day we shall find the right man and we shall all be happy ... en famille...."

THE END