Courtin, rather uneasy at the imperative tone of his young master, obeyed. A few steps farther on he climbed a bank, crossed an orchard, and reached the door of his farmhouse. As soon as he entered the lower room, which served him as kitchen and living-room, he drew a few scattered brands together on the hearth and blew up a blaze; then he lighted a candle of yellow wax and stuck it on the chimney-piece. By the light of this candle he saw what he could not see by the light of the moon,--namely, that Michel was as pale as death.
"My God! what's the matter with you, Monsieur le baron?" he exclaimed.
"Courtin," said the young man, frowning, "I heard every word of your conversation with my mother."
"Confound it! were you listening?" said the farmer, a good deal surprised. But, recovering instantly, he added, "Well, what of it?"
"You want your lease renewed next year?"
"I, Monsieur le baron?"
"You, Courtin; and you want it much more than you choose to own."
"Of course I shouldn't be sorry to have it renewed, Monsieur le baron; but if there's any objection it wouldn't be the death of me."
"Courtin, I am the person who will renew your lease, because I shall be of age by that time."
"Yes, that's so, Monsieur le baron."