Morise—"I do admire the solid education that she gives to her son. I shall not soon forget the day when Aloys, about to be twelve, was taken to the City Hall of Lavaur by his mother who said to our consuls: 'My friends, be the tutors of my son. His father would have brought him up, as he was himself, in the respect for the communal franchises. The only privilege that he will some day demand from you, will be to march in the front ranks in case the city is attacked, or of offering you a refuge in our castle. But thanks be to God, we shall continue to enjoy peace; and my son, ever following in the footsteps of his father, will cultivate his lands in common with our tenants. We shall have a holiday in Lavaur when Aloys will have cut his first furrow on our fields, guided by our oldest laborer. Aloys will ever feel proud of handling the food-yielding plow and of cultivating his fields.'"

Karvel—"And do you know that there was no abler farmer in all this region than the old Master of Lavaur? From far and wide they came for his advice. Oh, what a difference between the seigneurs of the north of Gaul and those of our happy region! The former think of nothing but to shine at tourneys and to indulge in a ruinous luxury which they are able to keep up only by overwhelming their serfs with taxes. Here, on the contrary, a few fools excepted, the seigneurs, almost all of whom have risen from the bourgeoisie, cultivate their lands in common friendship with their tenants, or equip vessels for commerce. And so we see here universal prosperity and affluence in our smiling country."

Morise—"Aimery, the brother of the Lady of Lavaur, was telling us only yesterday: 'Languedoc is the envy of all Gaul.'"

Karvel—"By the way of Aimery, is there anything more touching than the unalterable affection that links him to his sister Giraude? When I behold the two enjoying that delicious sentiment I regret all the more the absence of our Mylio, our dearly beloved brother."

Morise—"Patience! Your brother has a good heart. When the first ardor of youth will have spent itself, he will return to us."

Karvel—"I never doubted Mylio's heart. He only yielded to the impetuosity of his age and the vivacity of his nature—to that craving for adventures that, it would seem, asserts itself from time to time in us, the sons of Joel."

Morise—"Yes; in those legends of your family that we have so often read together we have seen Karadeucq the Bagauder, Ronan the Vagre, Amael, who was the favorite of Charles Martel, all of them, driven, like your brother, to adopt a vagabond life in early youth. I feel quite sure that Mylio will repent his light-headedness, and that we shall see him again."

Karvel—"One pleasure only our union has until now been deprived of. We have no children. I should have liked to see Mylio married. The stock of Joel might not then run out."

Morise—"I take charge of his marriage. When your brother comes back to us, he will be able to have his pick among the handsomest girls of Lavaur. Some one of them will know how to pin him down here."

The door of the chamber is suddenly thrown open, and Karvel's farmer neighbor enters precipitately, saying: