So she talked of Madame Legrand, and so all St. Croix talked of Madame Legrand, and some, of course, were envious and prophesied that the end had not come yet, and Mère Giraud would find herself forgotten some fine day; and others rejoiced with her, and congratulated themselves that they knew so aristocratic a person as Madame Legrand.
Jeanne Tallot was of those who sympathized with her in all warm-heartedness and candor.
With her knitting in her hand ready for action, and with friendly unceremoniousness, she presented herself at the cottage door one morning, nodding and speaking before she had crossed the threshold.
"Good-day, neighbor Giraud. Any letters from Laure this morning?"
Mère Giraud, who sat before the window under the swinging cage of her bird, looked up with an air a little more serious than usual.
"Ah!" she said, "I am glad it is you, Jeanne. I have been wishing to see you."
Jeanne seated herself, smiling.
"Then," said she, "it is well I came."
But immediately she noticed the absent look of her friend, and commented upon it.
"You do not look at your best this morning," she said. "How does it occur?"