“It was about six o'clock in the evening. I sat down to dinner, and as the host was assiduous in waiting on me himself, fate, no doubt, impelled me to say:
“'Did you know the former proprietors of this house? I spent about ten days here thirty years ago. I am talking old times.'
“'Those were my parents, monsieur,' he replied.
“Then I told him why we had stayed over at that time, how my comrade had been delayed by illness. He did not let me finish.
“'Oh, I recollect perfectly. I was about fifteen or sixteen. You slept in the room at the end and your friend in the one I have taken for myself, overlooking the street.'
“It was only then that the recollection of the little maid came vividly to my mind. I asked: 'Do you remember a pretty little servant who was then in your father's employ, and who had, if my memory does not deceive me, pretty eyes and fresh-looking teeth?'
“'Yes, monsieur; she died in childbirth some time after.'
“And, pointing to the courtyard where a thin, lame man was stirring up the manure, he added:
“'That is her son.'
“I began to laugh: