The Guillot family learned with delight that their friends were not to leave the country; for the road from Villeneuve-Saint-Georges to the farm was a pleasant walk, and they promised one another to take it often in the fine weather.
Four days after their arrival, our travellers started for the new abode in which they proposed to establish themselves. Adeline’s eyes were wet with tears when she stood once more in that house, when she saw again those gardens which had witnessed the first months of her married life—such pleasant months, which passed so quickly, never to return!
Catherine took possession of the kitchen, Lucas of the garden and of the post of concierge. Monsieur Gerval chose a room between Jacques and Adeline, whom he liked to have near him; and little Ermance remained with her mother, to cheer her by her prattle, to charm away her melancholy by her caresses, and to mingle some hopes with her memories.
Sans-Souci wished to resume his labors at the farm, but Monsieur Gerval and Jacques remonstrated.
“You saved my life,” said the old man, “and I don’t want you to leave me.”
“You shared my trials and my adversity,” said Jacques, “and you must share my fortune; everything is common between us.”
“Sacrebleu!” said Sans-Souci, passing his hand over his eyes, “these people do whatever they please with me. I will stay with you, that’s all right, but only on condition that I shall be at liberty to go to walk when you have company, and that I shan’t sit at table with Madame Adeline; for a man should be respectful to his superiors, and I am as stupid as a goose in society.”
“You shall go to walk as much as you please,” said the old man; “you shall hunt and fish, and smoke if that will give you pleasure; but you are going to sit at table with us, because a brave man is out of place nowhere.”
“All right, ten thousand cartridges! I see I must submit to that too.”
No more misadventures, no more storms, no more misfortunes; tranquil days had dawned at last for the family at Villeneuve-Saint-Georges. Adeline’s unhappiness had become a gentle melancholy, which the graces and caresses of her daughter beguiled and made endurable. Little Ermance grew and improved; her features became sweet and attractive; her voice was as soft as her mother’s, and her sensitive and kindly heart never turned away the unfortunate. Jacques, proud of his niece, had lost a little of his brusque manner since he had lived in the bosom of his family. Sans-Souci still swore, and would have thrown himself into the fire for any of his friends. Old Gerval was made doubly happy at the sight of the good that he himself did, and that Jacques did. In short, one and all enjoyed a peaceable life, and the people at the farm were often visited by their friends from the village.