The country parson ; and Albert Savarus ; The peasantry . ette,with a smile that relieved the solemnity of his words. Something in Olympes attitude and expression told Montcornet of anxiety and fears, and she too grew woman can read another womans thoughts from the wayshe draws the needle in and out, and, indeed, the head-for-esters wife, in her pretty pink dress, her hair coiled daintilyabout her head, seemed to be turning over sad thoughts inher mind, thoughts but little in keeping with her dress, herwork, and the sunny day. Now and again she looked up andfixed unseeing eyes
The country parson ; and Albert Savarus ; The peasantry . ette,with a smile that relieved the solemnity of his words. Something in Olympes attitude and expression told Montcornet of anxiety and fears, and she too grew woman can read another womans thoughts from the wayshe draws the needle in and out, and, indeed, the head-for-esters wife, in her pretty pink dress, her hair coiled daintilyabout her head, seemed to be turning over sad thoughts inher mind, thoughts but little in keeping with her dress, herwork, and the sunny day. Now and again she looked up andfixed unseeing eyes on the gravel paths or the green thickets,and the anxious expression on her fair forehead was the moreartlessly displayed because she thought herself unobserved. And I was envying her! What can darken her thoughts ?the Countess said, looking at the cure. Can you explain, madame, said the Abbe, speaking softly,how it is that our most perfect bliss is always troubled bydim forebodings ? Cure, said Blondet, smiling, you permit yourself Del- -££*** ? .. She leant ou Eniile Bloiidets arm THE PEASANTRY 169 phic answers.—Nothing is stolen, everything is paid for,so Napoleon said. Such a saying in the Emperors mouth becomes a gener-alization wide as humanity, said the Abbe. Well, Olympe, what is the matter, child? asked theCountess, stepping in front of the others towards her ex-waiting-maid. You look dreamy and thoughtful. Is itpossible that there has been a tiff at home ? Mine. Michaud rose to her feet. Her face wore a differentexpression already. I should dearly like to know what has brought the shadowover that brow, my child, said Emile Blondet paternally,when we are almost as nicely housed here as the ComtedArtois at the Tuileries. This is like a nightingales nestin a thicket. And have we not the bravest man of the YoungGuard for a husband, a fine fellow, who loves us to distrac-tion? If I had known the advantages Montcornet offers youhere, I would have left off writing paddi
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