Reine’s dark eyes filled with tears.
“What a misfortune!” she exclaimed, “and who could have expected such a thing? Oh! my poor Claudet!”
She was so moved, and spoke with such sincere compassion, that Claudet was perhaps misled, and thought he read in her glistening eyes a tenderer sentiment than pity; he trembled, took her hand, and held it long in his.
“Thank you, Reine! Yes,” he added, after a pause, “it is a rude shock to wake up one morning without hearth or home, when one has been in the habit of living on one’s income.”
“What do you intend to do?” inquired Reine, gravely.
Claudet shrugged his shoulders.
“To work for my bread—or, if I can find no suitable trade, enlist in a regiment. I think I should not make a bad soldier. Everything is going round and round in my head like a millwheel. The first thing to do is to see about my mother, who is lamenting down there at the house—I must find her a comfortable place to live.”
The young girl had become very thoughtful.
“Claudet,” replied she, “I know you are very proud, very sensitive, and could not wish to hurt your feelings. Therefore, I pray you not to take in ill part that which I am going to say-in short, if you should get into any trouble, you will, I hope, remember that you have friends at La Thuiliere, and that you will come to seek us.”
The ‘grand chasserot’ reddened.