“My friend, to whom does that large house below there, facing the other road, belong? and whence comes that music?”
“You probably know that as well as I,” replied the man, stolidly.
“Had I known, I should hardly have asked you,” said Camors.
The peasant did not deign further reply. His wife stood near him; and Camors had remarked that in all classes of society women have more wit and goodhumor than their husbands. Therefore he turned to her and said:
“You see, my good woman, I am a stranger here. To whom does that house belong? Probably to Monsieur des Rameures?”
“No, no,” replied the woman, “Monsieur des Rameures lives much farther on.”
“Ah! Then who lives here?”
“Why, Monsieur de Tecle, of course!”
“Ah, Monsieur de Tecle! But tell me, he does not live alone? There is a lady who sings—his wife?—his sister? Who is she?”
“Ah, that is his daughter-in-law, Madame de Tecle Madame Elise, who—”