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Adrien obediently glanced over the valley with languid indifference; like all lads of his age, he cared nothing for the beauty of natural scenery; so he only said, "You are very kind, father," without checking his walk. The invalid listlessness of this answer went to Genestas' heart; he said no more to his son, and they reached La Fosseuse's house in silence.
Dominick, St. Bennet, St. Basil, St. Bridget, had all whiskers. The Lady Baussiere had got into a wilderness of conceits, with moralizing too intricately upon La Fosseuse's text She mounted her palfrey, her page followed her the host passed by the Lady Baussiere rode on.
"You are a friend of monsieur, our late mayor! Ah! sir, would it not have been far better if God had only taken a poor rheumatic old creature like me instead? It would not have mattered if He had taken me, but HE was the light of our eyes." "Do you know how it is that there is no one at home up there at La Fosseuse's cottage?" The old man gave a look at the sky. "What time is it, sir?
The doctor's answer was a smile full of sadness and a cordial grasp of the hand that Genestas held out to him. Before daybreak next morning Commandant Genestas was on his way. On his return, it was noon before he reached the spot on the highroad between Grenoble and the little town, where the pathway turned that led to La Fosseuse's cottage.
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