"Pierre Luguet? Ah! yes, little Pierre; and where is he now?"
"Always in the same place," replied Solange, without stirring.
M. Isidore did not condescend to continue the conversation with one so little disposed to talk, and, turning towards Jeanne, lavished upon her some more foolish compliments, which, without being exactly to the taste of the child, were not displeasing to her vanity.
It was evident that mademoiselle encouraged Isidore, and thought him very charming. It was not because she was wanting in sense or penetration, but the custom of living alone in her big château, where she rarely saw any one but country people, and the new distraction of carrying out a plot that she had concocted, and which you will soon guess, made her see things dimly; and whilst Solange, simple girl as she was, saw at the first glance that young Perdreau had become an insolent, ridiculous fop, this high-born young lady, who had read so many books, was ready to faint at the least word of that simpleton—for simpleton was the name he well deserved until after-circumstances proved that he was worthy of a still more odious title.
Dame Berthe behaved just like her mistress; but, as the good creature had scarcely any common sense, that can very easily be understood. Isidore, since his return three days before, had never ceased to flatter her and relate long stories about Paris, principally his own inventions, but to which, nevertheless, the old governess, with eyes, ears, and mouth wide open, listened with devoted attention. So, when Solange showed such coldness to her old school-fellow, mademoiselle looked at her with anything but a gentle expression, and Dame Berthe instantly shrugged her shoulders and made big eyes at her.
But Solange remained perfectly indifferent; in the first place, because her back was turned to the ladies, and, secondly, because she worked away as though she expected to be paid a franc an hour.
Meanwhile, Pierrette and Ragaud came back from the pool Saint-Jean, where they had commenced to soak the hemp, and Jean-Louis soon followed. When they saw such fine company in the room, they all three stopped, rather ashamed of their working-clothes, which was doubtless the reason they did not observe that Jeannet, in her elegant costume, was a great contrast to them.
Ragaud, as you already know, was rather given to vain-glory, and his vanity was easily tickled. It was the only defect of this good man, but it must be acknowledged this defect clung to his heart as a tree is tied by its root to the ground; so that in Isidore Perdreau he only saw the favorable side—to wit, a young man, brought up in the capital, very rich and handsome, who could be received in the best houses, and who did not disdain to hasten to greet old friends so far beneath him. Pierrette, without further reasoning, was very sensible of what she likewise considered a great honor. So the excellent couple, whose honest souls were rather stupefied for the moment, quite overwhelmed Perdreau with the warmth of their reception, and pressed him so earnestly to repeat his visit you would really have thought they were welcoming the return of their own son.
Mademoiselle was in a gale of delight, and, when she re-entered the carriage with her attendants, the lackeys' faces were in a broad grin at seeing her so gay, and even the horses made two or three little jumps on starting, as though they, too, participated in the good-humor of their mistress.
"Well, what did I tell you?" asked mademoiselle of Isidore, who was seated opposite to her. "Is she pretty enough, well-bred enough? And, in spite of all your Parisian acquaintances, do you think she is a woman to be scorned?"