In the mean time the magpie, which Julien had seen the day before, was hopping around its mistress, like a familiar spirit; it even had the audacity to peck at her hair and then fly away, repeating, in its cracked voice:
“Reine, queen of the woods!”
“Why ‘queen of the woods?”’ asked Julien, coloring.
“Ah!” replied the young girl, “it is a nickname which the people around here give me, because I am so fond of the trees. I spend all the time I can in our woods, as much as I can spare from the work of the farm.
“Margot has often heard my father call me by that name; she remembers it, and is always repeating it.”
“Do you like living in this wild country?”
“Very much. I was born here, and I like it.”
“But you have not always lived here?”
“No; my mother, who had lived in the city, placed me at school in her own country, in Dijon. I received there the education of a young lady, though there is not much to show for it now. I stayed there six years; then my mother died, my father fell ill, and I came home.”
“And did you not suffer from so sudden a change?”