“These horrible incense pots choke me,” said Annabel.

“I like them,” said the marquis.

“Do you?  So do I,” she instantly agreed with him.

“Though we get enough incense in church.”

“I should think so!  Do you like mass?”

“I was brought up on my knees.  But I never acquired the real devotee’s back.”

“Sit on your heels,” imparted Annabel in strict confidence.  “Try it.”

“I will.  Ah, mademoiselle, any one who could bring such comfort into religion might make even wedlock endurable!”

Madame de Ferrier appeared between the curtains of a deep window.  She was talking with Count de Chaumont and an officer in uniform.  Her face pulsed a rosiness like that quiver in winter skies which we call northern lights.  The clothes she wore, being always subdued by her head and shoulders, were not noticeable like other women’s clothes.  But I knew as soon as her eyes rested on me that she found me changed.

De Chaumont came a step to meet me, and I felt miraculously equal to him, with some power which was not in me before.

“You scoundrel, you have fallen into luck!” he said heartily.

“One of our proverbs is, ’A blind pig will find an acorn once in a while.’”

“There isn’t a better acorn in the woods, or one harder to shake down.  How did you do it?”

I gave him a wise smile and held my tongue; knowing well that if I had remained in Ste. Pelagie and the fact ever came to De Chaumont’s ears, like other human beings he would have reprehended my plunging into the world.

“We are getting on tremendously, Lazarre!  When your inheritance falls in, come back with me to Castorland.  We will found a wilderness empire!”

I did not inquire what he meant by my inheritance falling in.  The marquis pressed behind me, and when I had spoken to Madame de Ferrier I knew it was his right to take the hand of the woman who had been his little neighbor.

“You don’t remember me, madame?”

“Oh, yes, I do, Monsieur du Plessy; and your wall fruit, too!”

“The rogue!  Permit me to tell you those pears are hastening to be ready for you once more.”

“And Bichette, monsieur—­is dear old Bichette alive?”

“She is alive, and draws the chair as well as ever.  I hear you have a little son.  He may love the old pony and chair as you used to love them.”

“Seeing you, monsieur, is like coming again to my home!”

“I trust you may come soon.”

They spoke of fruit and cattle.  Neither dared mention the name of any human companion associated with the past.

I took opportunity to ask Count de Chaumont if her lands were recovered.  A baffled look troubled his face.

“The emperor will see her to-night,” he answered.  “It is impossible to say what can be done until the emperor sees her.”

“Is there any truth in the story that he will marry her to the officer who holds her estate?”