Then Ykel appeared touched; his long hooked nose curved itself over his mouth, and, in a grave voice, he said:
"I always thought you were an honest man. You were a little severe in the service, but you were always just; no one has ever been able to say anything to the contrary."
Then he called:
"Katel! Katel!"
And his daughter, who had just lighted the fire on the hearth, entered.
"Look here, Katel," said he, pointing to me; "here is Father Frederick, whom the Prussians have turned out of his house, with his daughter and grandmother, because he will not join their band. That is a thousand times worse than the requisitions; it is enough to make one's hair stand on end."
His daughter also sided with us, crying that the heavens ought to fall to crush such rascals. She took me up-stairs, climbing the ladder-like stairs to show me the rooms that I wished to hire.
You cannot imagine anything more wretched; you could touch the beams of the ceiling with your hand; the narrow windows, with lead-framed casements, in the shadow of the rocks, gave scarcely a ray of light.
How different from our pretty cottage, so well lighted, on the slope of the hill! Yes, it was very gloomy, but we had no choice; we had to lodge somewhere.
I told Katel to make a small fire in the large room, so as to drive away the damp; then, going down-stairs again. Father Ykel and I agreed that I should have the first floor of his house, two places in the stable for my cows, the little hayloft above, with a pig-sty, one corner of the cellar for my potatoes, and half the shed, where I intended to put the furniture that would not go into the rooms, at a rent of eight francs a month—a pretty large sum at a time when no one was making a centime.