"Tell me thy name, little one," he asked presently, after a few moments' pensive meditation.
"I have two names, monsieur."
"Thou must call me grandfather. And the two names?"
"François Gustave."
"I shall call thee Gustave."
"But papa always called me François, and mamma said it was the name of a cruel man; but papa said he loved the name—"
"Ah, no more, little one!" cried the lord of Beaubocage suddenly; "thou knowest not with what dagger-thrusts thou dost pierce this poor old heart."
CHAPTER III.
GUSTAVE THE SECOND.
The little Gustave grew and flourished. Such love was lavished on him as rarely falls to the lot of children, though the spring of many lives may be rich in love's pure white blossom. The existence of this child seemed all happiness. He brought hope, and a sense of atonement, and all sweet things, to the quiet family at Beaubocage; and as he grew from childhood to boyhood, from boyhood to manhood, it seemed to that household as if the first Gustave of their love had never been taken from them. That Orphic fable of Zagreus repeats itself in many households. For the one bright creature lost another is given; and then comes a time when it is almost difficult to separate the image of the missing one from the dear substitute who so nearly fills his place.