So she sat there patiently and let the woman finish her nap. But her beautiful thoughts were gone and her mind was shadowed by something grave and strange that she shrank from. Then Pani stirred.
"O child, I've been sleeping stupidly and you have not gathered a flower—" looking at the empty hands. "Have you been here all the time?"
"No matter. Pani, am I a tyrant dragging you everywhere?" Her voice was touching with regret.
"No, cherie. But sometimes I feel old. I've lived a great many years."
"How many?"
"Oh, I cannot count them up. But I am rested now. Shall we walk about a little and get my knees limber? Where is Pierre?"
"He went home. Pani, it is true Marie is to be betrothed to M'sieu Beeson, and married at Christmastide."
"And if the sign holds good Madame De Ber will be fortunate in marrying off her girls, for, if the first hangs on, it is bad for the rest. Rose will be much prettier, and no doubt have lovers in plenty. But it is not always the prettiest that make the best wives. Marie is sensible. They will have a grand time."
"And I shall not be counted in," the child said proudly.
"Jeanne, little one—" in surprise.