united charm and good sense with kindliness, all that was requisite for the happiness of a household.  And he himself was very good-natured, prudent, and sensible, and she knew it and willingly took his arm to tread life’s path with him, certain as she felt that they would thus walk on together until life’s end should be reached, ever advancing with the same tranquil step under the divine and limpid sun of reason merged in love.

Great preparations were made at Chantebled on the day before the wedding.  Nevertheless, the ceremony was to remain of an intimate character, on account of the recent mourning.  The only guests, apart from members of the family, were the Seguins and the Beauchenes, and even the latter were cousins.  So there would scarcely be more than a score of them altogether, and only a lunch was to be given.  One matter which gave them some brief concern was to decide where to set the table, and how to decorate it.  Those early days of July were so bright and warm that they resolved to place it out of doors under the trees.  There was a fitting and delightful spot in front of the old shooting-box, the primitive pavilion, which had been their first residence on their arrival in the Janville district.  That pavilion was indeed like the family nest, the hearth whence it had radiated over the surrounding region.  As the pavilion had threatened ruin, Mathieu had repaired and enlarged it with the idea of retiring thither with Marianne, and Charlotte and her children, as soon as he should cede the farm to his son Gervais, that being his intention.  He was, indeed, pleased with the idea of living in retirement like a patriarch, like a king who had willingly abdicated, but whose wise counsel was still sought and accepted.  In place of the former wild garden a large lawn now stretched before the pavilion, surrounded by some beautiful trees, elms and hornbeams.  These Mathieu had planted, and he had watched them grow; thus they seemed to him to be almost part of his flesh.  But his real favorite was an oak tree, nearly twenty years of age and already sturdy, which stood in the centre of the lawn, where he had planted it with Marianne, who had held the slender sapling in position while he plied his spade on the day when they had founded their domain of Chantebled.  And near this oak, which thus belonged to their robust family, there was a basin of living water, fed by the captured springs of the plateau—­water whose crystalline song made the spot one of continual joy.

It was here then that a council was held on the day before the wedding.  Mathieu and Marianne repaired thither to see what preparations would be necessary, and they found Charlotte with a sketch-book on her knees, rapidly finishing an impression of the oak tree.

“What is that—­a surprise?” they asked.

She smiled with some confusion.  “Yes, yes, a surprise; you will see.”