FADE : & BY 
 
 GEORGE SAND. 
 
 NEW YORK AND BOSTON 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL AND 
 COMPANY
 
 FADETTE 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE SAND 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 MRS. JAMES M. LANCASTER 
 
 NEW YORK : 46 EAST 14- STREET 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON : 100 PURCHASE STREET 
 
 THE 
 
 UNIVEKSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 
 \ 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 Bv T. Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 Norfaooti 
 J. 8. Ciuhing & Co. - Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 AFTER the terrible days of June, 1848, were at an 
 end, I withdrew from the world agitated to the 
 very depths of my soul by the scenes of violence 
 through which we had passed, and hoping to regain 
 in solitude, at least my faith, if not my peace of mind. 
 
 If I claimed to be a philosopher, I might believe or 
 pretend to believe, that faith in ideas enables the 
 mind to maintain its serenity in the midst of the 
 deplorable events of contemporaneous history. 
 
 But I make no such pretensions. I humbly ac- 
 knowledge that the conviction that Providence has 
 a future in store for us, would have no power to 
 sustain the soul of an artist through the trials of a 
 present fraught with gloom and convulsed by civil 
 war. Men who enter the fray who take an active 
 part in politics must, whatever may be the circum- 
 stances, be a prey to alternate hope and despair, rage 
 and exultation, the elation of triumph or the exas- 
 peration of defeat. 
 
 But for the poor poet as for the woman who sits, 
 an idle spectator of events, having no direct or 
 iii 
 
 2039012
 
 iv PREFACE 
 
 personal part in them, there is whatever may be 
 the outcome of the struggle a profound abhorrence 
 of bloodshed on either side, grief and despair at 
 beholding the hatred, the insults, the threats, the 
 calumnies which ascend to heaven, like a foul holo- 
 caust, in the train of social upheavals. 
 
 At such moments as these, a genius like Dante's, 
 impetuous and indomitable, writes with his tears, 
 his nerves at their utmost tension, dipping his 
 pen in gall a terrible poem, a drama filled with 
 groans and torture. One's soul must, like his, 
 have been tempered by fire and sword, before one's 
 imagination could conceive the horrors of a symbolic 
 Inferno, when the wretched Purgatory of actual 
 earthly desolation is staring him in the face. 
 
 The artist of our less virile and more sensitive age 
 who is the reflection and echo of his generation 
 cannot resist the impulse to avert his gaze and dis- 
 tract his imagination by turning toward an ideal 
 state of peace and calm contemplation. He need 
 not blush for the weakness to which he yields, for it 
 is also his duty. At a time when such evils arise 
 from men's hatred of each other and lack of mutual 
 understanding, the artist's mission is to extol moder- 
 ation, mutual confidence, and friendship, and thereby 
 to remind poor, callous, or disheartened humanity, 
 that purity of morals, tender sentiments, and prim- 
 itive justice still exist or can exist in this world. 
 
 Direct allusions to present ills, appeals to excited 
 passions these do not lead to salvation ; a sweet
 
 PREFACE v 
 
 song, an air on the rustic pipe, a tale with which to 
 lull the little ones to sleep, secure and free from 
 pain, is worth far more than the portrayal of real 
 evils, whose colors are deepened and intensified by 
 the power of fiction. 
 
 To preach peace and harmony to men engaged in 
 cutting each other's throats, is like a voice crying in 
 the wilderness. There are times when men's souls 
 are so disturbed that they are deaf to any direct 
 appeal. Since those June days, of which present 
 events are the inevitable consequence, the author of 
 the tale which you are about to read has assumed 
 the task of being amiable, even if he should die of 
 chagrin. He has allowed them to ridicule his pas- 
 toral sketches, just as they have ridiculed everything 
 else, but has not troubled himself as to the decisions 
 of dogmatic criticism. He knows that he has given 
 pleasure to those who love that strain, and that to 
 give pleasure to such as suffer from the same malady 
 as himself a horror of hatred and the vengeance 
 which follows in its footsteps is to do them all the 
 good which they are capable of accepting. A brief 
 enjoyment, it is true, a fleeting consolation, but 
 more genuine than the tirades of passion and more 
 impressive than a classic presentation of logical facts. 
 
 GEORGE SAND. 
 NOHANT, December 21, 1851.
 
 FADETTE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 FATHER BARBEAU was a member of the municipal 
 council of his commune, so you may take it for 
 granted that he was a man in pretty comfortable 
 circumstances. He had two fields which furnished 
 a support for his family, and gave him a profit be- 
 sides. His meadows yielded an abundant crop of 
 hay, and, with the exception of that growing along 
 the brook, which was of rather poorer quality on 
 account of the rushes, it was considered the best 
 forage in the neighborhood. Father Barbeau's 
 house was well built, roofed with tiles, and pleas- 
 antly situated on a hillside, with a productive garden 
 and a vineyard of about five acres. Then he had a 
 fine orchard behind his barn, what is called an 
 ouche in our part of the country, which bore plenty 
 of fruit, plums, cherries, pears, and sorb apples ; 
 and there were no walnut trees, within a couple of 
 leagues, so large and old as those which bordered 
 his land. Father Barbeau was a good, cheerful, 
 simple-hearted man, very devoted to his family, 
 
 B I
 
 2 FADETTE 
 
 without neglecting the interests of his neighbors 
 and fellow-parishioners. 
 
 He was already the father of three children, when 
 Mother Barbeau being no doubt of the opinion 
 that they were able to support five, and that she had 
 better hurry up as she was getting on in years saw 
 fit to present him with two fine boys at once. As 
 they were so much alike that it was difficult to tell 
 them apart, it was at once evident that they were 
 bessons, that is to say, twins who bear a remark- 
 able resemblance to each other. Mother Sagette, 
 who received them in her apron as soon as they came 
 into the world, did not forget to make a little cross 
 with her needle on the arm of the first-born, because, 
 said she, " there might be some mistake about a bit 
 of ribbon or a necklace, and so the child might forfeit 
 his birthright." 
 
 "When the child is better able to bear it," said 
 she, " we must make a mark which will last," and 
 this was accordingly done. The elder was named 
 Sylvain, which was soon changed to Sylvinet, to dis- 
 tinguish him from his elder brother, who was his 
 godfather ; the younger was called Landry, and kept 
 the name as he had received it at baptism, his uncle, 
 who was his sponsor, being still known as Landriche, 
 the name he had borne as a child. 
 
 When Father Barbeau returned from market, he was 
 rather surprised to see two little heads in the cradle. 
 
 "Oh, ho!" said he, "that cradle is too small, I 
 must make it larger to-morrow." He was something
 
 FADETTE 3 
 
 of a carpenter, though he had never learned the 
 trade, and had made half his furniture himself. He 
 had nothing further to say on the subject, but set 
 about caring for his wife, who drank a large glass of 
 warm wine, and was all the better for it. 
 
 " You are so very industrious, wife, that I ought to 
 feel encouraged to do my part. Here are two more 
 children to feed, though we were not actually in need 
 of them ; that means that I must keep on cultivat- 
 ing our land and raising our cattle. Don't fret! 
 I'll work ; but see that you don't give me three the 
 next time, for that would be too many." 
 
 Mother Barbeau began to cry, which greatly dis- 
 tressed Father Barbeau. "There, there, wife ! " said 
 he, " you must not worry. I did not say that to dis- 
 tress you, but, on the contrary, by way of thanks. 
 These children are handsome and well-formed 
 they haven't a blemish about them, and I am quite 
 proud of them." 
 
 " Oh, clear me ! " said his wife, " I know you don't 
 mean to blame me, master ; but I can't help worrying, 
 for I have been told that there is nothing more diffi- 
 cult or risky than bringing up twins. They are a 
 drawback to each other, and it generally turns out 
 that one has to die so that the other may thrive." 
 
 "Indeed!" said the father, "is that really true? 
 I don't remember ever to have seen twins before. 
 They don't come often. But here is Mother Sagette, 
 who has had plenty of experience, and will tell us 
 all about it."
 
 4 FADETTE 
 
 So when they appealed to Mother Sagette, she 
 answered : 
 
 " Just mark my words, these twins will live and 
 thrive, and will have just as good health as other 
 children. I have been a nurse this fifty years, and 
 have seen all the children in the Canton, born, grow 
 up, or die. Twins are no new thing to me. In 
 the first place, it doesn't matter about their looking 
 alike. Sometimes they are no more alike than you 
 and I, and yet one will be strong and the other 
 sickly ; so one lives and the other dies. But just 
 look at yours ; each one of them is as handsome and 
 well-formed as if he were an only son. They cer- 
 tainly did each other no harm before they came into 
 the world, and they were born without causing their 
 mother too much suffering, and seem to be all right 
 themselves. They are as pretty as pictures, and ask 
 nothing better than to be allowed to live. Come, 
 cheer up, Mother Barbeau! You will take great 
 comfort in seeing them grow up, and if they keep 
 on as they have begun, very few people, excepting 
 yourselves and those who see them every day, will 
 be able to know them apart, for I never saw twins 
 so much alike. They are like two little partridges 
 out of the same egg. They are so pretty and so 
 much alike that only the mother bird can know 
 which is which." 
 
 "All right," said Father Barbeau, scratching his 
 head ; " but I have heard say that twins are so fond 
 of each other that they cannot live apart, and that if
 
 FADETTE 5 
 
 you separate them, one or the other will grieve itself 
 to death." 
 
 "That is perfectly true," said Mother Sagette; 
 " but now, listen to the advice of a woman who has 
 had experience. Do not forget what I tell you ; for 
 perhaps by the time your children are old enough to 
 leave you, I may no longer be living. Take care as 
 soon as your twins are old enough to recognize each 
 other, and don't let them be always together. Take 
 one out to work with you, while the other stays at 
 home. When one goes fishing, send the other out 
 hunting. When one is tending the sheep, let the 
 other go and see to the cattle in the pasture. When 
 you give one a glass of wine, give the other some 
 water, and vice versa. Don't scold or correct them 
 both at the same time ; don't dress them alike ; when 
 one has a hat let the other have a cap, and above all, 
 don't let their blouses be of the same shade of blue. 
 In fact, do everything you can to prevent their being 
 mistaken for each other, and passing themselves off 
 for each other. I am very much afraid that what I 
 am telling you will go in one ear and out of the other, 
 but if you don't follow my advice, you will live to 
 regret it." 
 
 Mother Sagette spoke sensibly, and they believed 
 her. They promised her to do as she said, and made 
 her a handsome present before she left. Then, as 
 she had expressly recommended that the twins 
 should not be brought up on the same milk, they 
 at once set about finding a nurse. But there was
 
 6 FADETTE 
 
 none to be found in the place. Mother Barbeau, 
 who had not been on the lookout for two children, 
 and who had nursed all the others herself, had not 
 made any arrangements in advance. Father Barbeau 
 was obliged to go about the neighborhood in search 
 of a nurse, and meanwhile, as the mother could not 
 see her little ones suffer, she suckled them herself. 
 
 People in our part of the country take some time 
 making up their minds, and even if they are very 
 well-to-do, must always try to bargain a little. The 
 Barbeaus had the reputation of having considerable 
 property, and it was supposed that as the mother was 
 not as young as she had been, she would not be able 
 to nurse both her children. So all the nurses Father 
 Barbeau could find, asked him eighteen francs a 
 month, just the same as they would charge a 
 bourgeois. Father Barbeau had not expected to 
 give more than twelve or fifteen francs, as he thought 
 that was a good deal for a peasant. He inquired 
 everywhere, and talked the matter over, but without 
 coming to any decision. There was no particular 
 hurry ; for two such small children could not exhaust 
 the mother, and they were so healthy, so quiet, and 
 cried so little, that they made scarcely any more 
 trouble in the house than one baby. 
 
 They both went to sleep at the same time. The 
 father had enlarged the cradle, and when the children 
 both cried at once, the same rocking soothed them 
 both. 
 
 Finally Father Barbeau engaged a nurse at fifteen
 
 FADETTE 7 
 
 francs, and he was only haggling over a gratuity of 
 a hundred sous, when his wife said to him : 
 
 "Pooh, master, I don't see why we should spend a 
 hundred and eighty or two hundred francs a year as 
 if we were ladies and gentlemen, or as if I were too 
 old to nurse my own children. I have more than 
 enough milk for them both. Our boys are nearly a 
 month old, and just see how healthy they are! La 
 Merlaude, whom you are thinking of engaging as 
 nurse for one of them, is not so strong nor so healthy 
 as I am ; her milk is already eighteen months old, 
 and that is not what so young a child needs. La 
 Sagette told us we must not bring up our children 
 on the same milk, so as to prevent their becoming 
 too fond of each other. But didn't she say, too, that 
 we must take as good care of one as of the other? 
 After all, twins are not so hardy as other children. 
 I would rather that our boys should love each other 
 too dearly, than that one should be sacrificed for the 
 other. I may say that I have been very fond of all 
 my children, but, somehow or other, these seem to 
 me the prettiest little darlings I have ever held in my 
 arms. I have a queer feeling about them, which 
 makes me always feel afraid that I may lose them. 
 Give up thinking of engaging a nurse, husband, 
 please do! in every other respect we will follow 
 Mother Sagette's advice. How can two children 
 still at the breast grow too fond of each other, I 
 should like to know, when they will hardly be able 
 to tell their hands from their feet when they are old 
 enough to be weaned ? "
 
 8 FADETTE 
 
 "What you say is very true, wife," answered 
 Father Barbeau, looking at his wife, who was still 
 fresher and stronger than most women ; " but what 
 should we do if your health should fail as the chil- 
 dren grow bigger? " 
 
 " Never fear, 1 ' said Mother Barbeau ; " my appetite 
 is as good as when I was fifteen, and besides, if I 
 find that I am running down, I promise you that I 
 will let you know, and there will still be time to send 
 one of these poor children out to nurse." 
 
 Father Barbeau agreed, the more readily as he was 
 not much inclined to incur any unnecessary expense. 
 Mother Barbeau nursed her twins uncomplainingly, 
 and was none the worse for it, and she had such a 
 fine constitution that, two years after weaning her 
 little ones, she gave birth to a pretty little girl 
 named Nanette, which she also nursed herself. But 
 it was a little too much for her, and she could hardly 
 have managed it, if her eldest daughter, who had just 
 had her first child, had not come to her assistance 
 by occasionally nursing her little sister. And so the 
 whole family grew up and were soon swarming about ' 
 in the sunshine, the little uncles and aunts with the 
 little nephews and nieces, none of whom could lay 
 claim to being any better or any worse than the 
 others.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE twins grew apace and were not ill any oftener 
 than other children, and they were so good-tempered 
 and amiable that it really seemed as if they did 
 not suffer as much in teething and growing as the 
 rest of the little ones. They were blond and con- 
 tinued blond all their lives. They were very good- 
 looking, with large blue eyes, fine sloping shoulders, 
 straight, well-formed bodies, larger and stronger 
 than other children of their age, and all the people 
 from the neighborhood who passed through La Cosse 
 stopped to take a look at them and to wonder at 
 their resemblance to each other, and everyb9dy went 
 off saying, "That is certainly a fine pair of boys!" 
 In this way the twins became early accustomed to 
 being inspected and questioned, so that they did not 
 grow up bashful and silly. They were quite at their 
 ease with everybody, and instead of hiding behind 
 the bushes as country children do whenever they see 
 a stranger, they spoke to everybody who came along, 
 but always very politely and answered any questions 
 without hanging their heads or waiting to be asked 
 twice. At first sight there seemed to be no differ- 
 ence between them, and they were thought to be as 
 9
 
 10 FADETTE 
 
 much alike as two peas. But after looking at them 
 for a few minutes, you could see that Landry was a 
 shade taller and stronger, that his hair was a little 
 thicker, his nose more prominent, and his eyes 
 brighter. His forehead was broader too, and he 
 looked more determined, and while his brother had 
 a mark on his left cheek, he had a similar one on his 
 right cheek, only much more distinct. The people 
 of the district could distinguish them readily enough, 
 but they had to look closely, and at nightfall or at a 
 little distance, almost everybody confused them, par- 
 ticularly as their voices were very much alike, and 
 as, knowing how easy it was to mistake one for the 
 other, they answered to each other's names without 
 troubling themselves to correct the error. Even 
 Father Barbeau was sometimes confused, but, as 
 Sagette had prophesied, their mother alone never 
 made a mistake, whether they were in the dark or 
 at so great distance off that she could just see them 
 coming or hear their voices. 
 
 In fact, there was nothing to choose between them, 
 and if Landry was a trifle gayer and more high- 
 spirited than his brother, Sylvinet was so affection- 
 ate and intelligent that he was quite as lovable as 
 his younger brother. For the first three months 
 their parents tried to prevent their growing fond of 
 each other. Three months is a long time for coun- 
 try people to continue doing anything to which they 
 are unaccustomed. But, on the one hand, they 
 could not see that it made any difference, and on
 
 FADETTE 11 
 
 the other, M. le Curd had told them that Mother 
 Sagette was in her dotage, and that what the dear 
 Lord had ordained by natural law, could not be 
 undone by man. So that by and by they forgot 
 what they had promised to do. The first time the 
 little boys left off their frocks to go to mass in 
 trousers, they were dressed in the same cloth, for 
 both suits were made out of a petticoat of their 
 mother's, and were just alike, for the parish tailor 
 did not know how to make them any other way. 
 As they grew older, it was noticed that they liked 
 the same colors, and when their Aunt Rosette wished 
 to make them a present of a cravat on New Year's 
 Day, they both chose one of the same shade of 
 lilac, out of the pack of the pedlar who carried his 
 merchandise from door to door on the back of his 
 Percheron horse. Their aunt asked them if it was 
 because they wanted to be dressed alike, but the 
 twins did not think that far. Sylvinet answered that 
 the pedlar had not another cravat in his stock so 
 pretty in color and design, and Landry at once 
 agreed that all the other cravats were ugly. 
 
 "And how do you like the color of my horse ?" 
 asked the pedlar, laughing. 
 
 " It is very ugly," said Landry. " It looks like an 
 old magpie." 
 
 " Just as ugly as can be," said Sylvinet. " It looks 
 like a half-fledged magpie." 
 
 " You see," said the pedlar to their aunt, looking 
 very wise, " that these children see everything the
 
 12 FADETTE 
 
 same. If one sees yellow where he ought to see red, 
 the other will as quickly see red where he ought to 
 see yellow, and it is of no use arguing the matter with 
 them ; for they say when you try to prevent twins from 
 regarding themselves as cast in the same die, they 
 become idiots and can't tell what they are talking 
 about." 
 
 The pedlar said this because his lilac cravats were 
 not fast color, and he was anxious to find a customer 
 who would take two of them. 
 
 As time went on, all this continued, and the twins 
 were dressed so exactly alike that people confused 
 them still more frequently, and whether from a spirit 
 of childish mischief or in accordance with that natural 
 law which the curd believed it impossible to set aside, 
 when one had broken the toe of his sabot, the other 
 soon chipped a piece off of his, for the corresponding 
 foot. When one tore his jacket or his cap, the other 
 never rested till he had imitated the tear so perfectly 
 that it was impossible to tell that it was not caused by 
 the same accident ; and then the twins would begin 
 to laugh, and put on an air of lamblike innocence 
 when they were questioned about it. 
 
 For weal or woe, this affection increased with age, 
 and by the time they could use their reason a little, the 
 children made up their minds that neither of them 
 could play with other children when his twin brother 
 was absent. Once when their father tried keeping 
 one of them with him all day, while the other stayed 
 at home with his mother, they both were so sad, so
 
 FADETTE 13 
 
 pale, and worked with so little spirit, that the parents 
 thought they must be ill. And then, when they met 
 again in the evening, they wandered off together, 
 hand in hand, and did not want to come in, because 
 they were so glad to see each other again, and also 
 because they were a little put out with their parents 
 for making them so uncomfortable. This experiment 
 was not repeated ; for, to tell the truth, father and 
 mother, sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts, were 
 so fond of the twins that they were inclined to spoil 
 them. They took great pride in them because they 
 received so many compliments and also because they 
 were neither ugly, silly, nor naughty. 
 
 Once in a while Father Barbeau would worry a little 
 as to what was to be the result of this habit of being 
 always together, after they should grow to be men, 
 and recalling La Sagette's words, he tried to make 
 them jealous of each other by teasing them. For 
 instance, if they played some prank, he would pull 
 Sylvinet's ears, saying to Landry, " Fll forgive you 
 this time, for you generally behave better than your 
 brother." But Sylvinet soon forgot his tingling ears, 
 he was so pleased that Landry had escaped punish- 
 ment. They also tried giving to one what both 
 wanted : but, if it was something to eat, they divided 
 it between them, or if it happened to be a toy or a 
 little tool, they made common property of it, or 
 handed it back and forth without question of owner- 
 ship. If one was praised for his good conduct, with 
 apparent injustice to the other, that other was proud
 
 14 FADE7TE 
 
 and pleased to see his twin petted and encouraged, 
 and began to flatter him too. In short, it was useless 
 attempting to separate them in mind or body, and as 
 we none of us like to vex children whom we love, 
 even when it is for their good, they soon let things 
 take their own course, or rather they turned their 
 little teasings into a game which did not deceive the 
 children. They were very sharp-witted and they 
 sometimes pretended to quarrel and fight so that they 
 might be let alone ; but they were only in fun, and 
 took care not to hurt each other even the least little 
 bit in the world, as they rolled over and over on the 
 ground. If some passer-by was astonished to see 
 them squabbling, they would hide themselves and 
 laugh at him, and before long you would hear them 
 chattering and twittering away like two blackbirds 
 on one branch. 
 
 In spite of this devoted affection and this close 
 resemblance, God, who has made no two things pre- 
 cisely alike in heaven or earth, ordained that their 
 fates should be very unlike, and so it became evident 
 that He intended them to be two distinct beings, 
 quite dissimilar in temperament. 
 
 It was not till after they had made their first 
 communion together, that something occurred which 
 showed this to be the case. Father Barbeau's family 
 was on the increase, thanks to his two elder daugh- 
 ters, who had given birth to a goodly number of 
 handsome children. His eldest son, Martin, a fine, 
 handsome fellow, was out at service ; his sons-in-
 
 FADETTE 15 
 
 law were all industrious men, but work was often 
 scarce. We have had a succession of bad years in 
 our part of the country as much from severe storms 
 as from business troubles which have robbed the 
 country people's pockets of more crowns than they 
 put into them. So Father Barbeau did not feel able 
 to keep his whole family at home, and he began to 
 think that it was time to put his twins out at work. 
 Father Caillaud de la Priche offered to take one of 
 them to drive his oxen ; for he had a large farm to 
 cultivate, and all his own boys were too big or too 
 little for that work. Mother Barbeau was both 
 alarmed and distressed when her husband first spoke 
 to her about it. She had worried about this very 
 thing all their lives, and yet she felt as if it was the 
 first time the subject had been mentioned ; but as 
 she was a very obedient and submissive wife, she 
 had nothing to say. The father also felt anxious, 
 and had made all his arrangements in advance. At 
 first the twins cried, and spent three days wandering 
 about the woods and meadows, and were never seen 
 except at meal-times. They would not say a word 
 to their parents, and when they were asked if they 
 had made up their minds to consent, they did not 
 answer, but talked it over a good deal when they 
 were alone together. 
 
 The first day they could do nothing but grieve 
 over the approaching separation, and walked about 
 arm in arm as if they feared that their parents might 
 resort to force. Father Barbeau, however, would
 
 16 FADETTB 
 
 never have done that. He had all a peasant's shrewd- 
 ness, which is half patience and half trust in the magical 
 effect of time. So the next day the twins, seeing 
 that nobody was going to scold them, and that their 
 parents relied upon their good sense to bring them 
 to reason, were more afraid of offending their father 
 than they would have been if he had threatened to 
 punish them. 
 
 " We 1 !! have to make up our minds to submit," 
 said Landry, " and the thing is, to decide which of 
 us is to go ; for they have left it to us, and Father 
 Caillaud says that he cannot take us both." 
 
 " What difference does it make to me whether I go 
 or stay," said Sylvinet, " when you are going to leave 
 us? It is not only the fact of going to live some- 
 where else that I am thinking about, if you were 
 going with me I should soon feel at home there." 
 
 " It is easy enough to say that," answered Landry, 
 " and still the one who stays at home will have more 
 to comfort him, and will not have so many things to 
 worry about as the one who will have to part from 
 his twin brother, his father, his mother, his garden, 
 his animals, and everything which gives him any 
 pleasure." 
 
 Landry spoke with considerable firmness, but Sylvi- 
 net began to cry again ; for he was not so plucky as 
 his brother, and the idea of giving up everything at 
 once made him so unhappy that he could no longer 
 restrain his tears. 
 
 Landry cried, too, but not so much and not in the
 
 FADETTE 17 
 
 same way ; fot he was always thinking of taking the 
 greater share of the trouble on his own shoulders, 
 and he wanted to see how much his brother could 
 bear, so that he might spare him the rest. He knew 
 that Sylvinet hated more than he to live in a strange 
 place, and with people who were not his relatives. 
 
 " See here, brother," said he, " if we can make up 
 our minds to live apart, I would better be the one to 
 go. I am a little stronger than you, you know, and 
 when we are ill, which almost always happens at 
 the same time, your fever is always higher than 
 mine. They say that perhaps we'll die if we are 
 separated ; I don't believe that I shall die, but I 
 cannot answer for you, and that is why I should 
 rather leave you with our mother, who will comfort 
 you and take care of you. To tell the truth, if there 
 is any difference made between us, and I hardly 
 think there is, I believe you are the favorite, and 
 I know you are the most winning and affectionate. 
 So you must stay and I will go. We shall not be 
 far away from each other. Father Caillaud's land is 
 next to ours, and we shall see each other every day. 
 I like to work and it will keep me from thinking too 
 much about you, and as I am a faster runner than 
 you, it will not take me so long to come over and see 
 you as soon as my day's work is done. You will not 
 have much to do, and can walk over to see me at 
 work. I shall be much easier about you than if you 
 were away and I at home. So I hope you will stay." 
 c
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 BUT Sylvinet would not listen to that. Though 
 he was more devoted to his father and mother and 
 little Nanette than Landry was, he shrank from al- 
 lowing his beloved twin to bear the whole burden. 
 After talking it over, they drew straws, and the lot 
 fell on Landry. This did not satisfy Sylvinet, and 
 he insisted on tossing up a penny. Three times it 
 fell face up for him, and it was always Landry's lot 
 to go. 
 
 " You see it is my fate," said Landry, " and it is of 
 no use to fight against it." The third day Sylvinet 
 had not done crying, but Landry hardly shed a tear. 
 The idea of going away had perhaps, at first, been 
 more distressing to him than to his brother, because 
 he was fully aware of the demands it would make on 
 his courage, and also realized how impossible it 
 would be to resist his parents' wishes. But he had 
 grown accustomed to his trouble by thinking it over, 
 and had reasoned with himself a good deal, whereas 
 Sylvinet had given way to his feelings to such an 
 extent that he was no longer able to take the matter 
 into calm consideration, and Landry had quite de- 
 cided to go before Sylvinet had made up his mind 
 to consent to his going. 
 
 18
 
 FADETTE 19 
 
 Then Landry had rather more self-esteem than his 
 brother. They had been so often told that they 
 would never be more than half men if they did not 
 get used to being separated, that Landry, who began 
 to feel the pride of his fourteen years, wanted to 
 show them that he was no longer a child. He had 
 always had great influence over his brother, from the 
 time when they first climbed to the tops of the trees 
 after bird's-nests, down to the present day. So now, 
 he succeeded in pacifying him, and that evening, 
 when they went back home, he told his father that 
 his brother and he were ready to do their duty : they 
 had drawn lots, and he was the one to drive Father 
 Caillaud's big oxen. 
 
 Father Barbeau took his twins on his knees, tall 
 and heavy as they were, and said to them : 
 
 "Children, you have reached years of discretion, 
 I can see that, by your yielding to my wishes, and 
 I am glad of it. Remember that when children 
 obey their parents, they are obeying their Father 
 in heaven, who will reward them for it some day or 
 other. I do not care to know which one of you gave 
 in first. But God knows, and He will bless him who 
 made the proposal, as well as him who agreed to it." 
 
 So he led his twins to their mother to receive her 
 approval, but Mother Barbeau had so much difficulty 
 in restraining her tears that she could not speak to 
 them, and only kissed them in silence. 
 
 Father Barbeau, who had plenty of sense, knew 
 well enough which one of them was the most coura-
 
 20 FADETTE 
 
 geous and which the most affectionate. He did not 
 want to give Sylvinet a chance to change his mind ; 
 for he saw that Landry had decided for himself, and 
 that the only thing which could make him waver in 
 his determination would be the sight of his brother's 
 distress. 
 
 So he woke Landry before daybreak, taking care 
 not to rouse his brother, who was asleep at his side. 
 
 "Come, little one," said he, in a whisper; "we 
 must start off for La Priche before your mother sees 
 you ; for you know how she feels about your going 
 away, and we must spare her a farewell. I am going 
 with you to your new master's, and will carry your 
 bundle." 
 
 "Won't you let me say good-bye to my brother? " 
 asked Landry. " He will be angry with me if I go 
 away without letting him know." 
 
 " If your brother should wake up and see you go, 
 he will cry, and that will waken your mother, and 
 your mother will feel all the worse at the sight of 
 your grief. Come, Landry! You are a brave boy! 
 You don't want to make your mother ill. Do your 
 duty like a man, my son ; go off without making any 
 fuss. I will bring your brother to see you this even- 
 ing, and, as to-morrow will be Sunday, you may come 
 to see your mother as early as you please." 
 
 Landry obeyed like a hero, and crossed the thresh- 
 old without once looking back. Mother Barbeau 
 was not so sound asleep that she had not heard all 
 that her husband had said to Landry. The poor
 
 FADETTE 21 
 
 woman, acknowledging that her husband was right, 
 did not stir, and only drew her curtain aside a little, 
 so that she might see Landry go. She was so over- 
 come with grief that she crawled out at the foot of 
 the bed, intending to go and kiss him good-bye, but 
 she stopped when she stood beside the twins 1 bed, 
 where Sylvinet was still asleep. The poor boy had 
 cried so much for three days and almost three 
 nights, that he was quite worn out, and even a 
 little feverish, for he was tossing about on his pil- 
 low, sighing heavily and groaning, but without 
 waking up. 
 
 Then Mother Barbeau, looking at the remaining 
 twin, could not help acknowledging to herself that 
 she would have felt worse to see this one go. It 
 was true that he was the most affectionate of the 
 two, perhaps because he was not quite so strong, or 
 because God has established a natural law which 
 decrees that when two persons have a very warm at- 
 tachment to each other be they friends or lovers 
 one always loves r.iore intensely than the other. 
 Father Barbeau had a slight partiality for Landry, 
 because, in his eyes, a high spirit and an active and 
 industrious disposition were of more value than 
 winning manners and little endearing ways. But 
 the mother had a special weakness for Sylvinet, who 
 was more lovable and attractive. 
 
 So there she stood, looking at her poor boy, who 
 was quite pale and exhausted, and saying to herself 
 that it would have been a great pity to put him out
 
 22 FADETTE 
 
 to service so young ; that Landry was stronger and 
 better able to work, and, in addition to that, his 
 fondness for his mother and his twin brother was 
 not so great as to endanger his health. 
 
 "He is a child who has a great notion of duty," 
 thought she ; " but, all the same, he must be rather 
 hard-hearted, or he would not have gone off like that, 
 without a word of protest ; never turning his head to 
 look back, or shedding a tear. He would not have 
 had strength to go two steps without falling on his 
 knees, and praying Our Dear Lord to give him 
 courage, and he would have come up to my bed, 
 where I was pretending to be asleep, if only to take 
 one last look at me, and kiss the hem of my curtain. 
 My Landry is every inch a boy! He cares for noth- 
 ing but life and activity, and wants to run about and 
 work, and have some change. But this one has the 
 heart of a girl. He is so gentle and affectionate 
 that one cannot help loving him like the apple of 
 one's eye." 
 
 And so Mother Barbeau went on talking to herself, 
 as she went back to bed, where she lay awake while 
 Father Barbeau was taking Landry over fields and 
 pastures towards La Priche. When they reached the 
 brow of a hill, whence they could get a last view of 
 the farm buildings of La Cosse, Landry stopped and 
 looked back. His heart swelled ; he seated himself 
 on the fern and could not go a step farther. His 
 father pretended not to notice him, and walked on. 
 In a moment or two, he called to him in a low voice :
 
 FADETTE 23 
 
 "See, Landry; it is daylight! We must hurry if 
 we mean to get there before sunrise." 
 
 Landry rose, and, as if he had determined not to 
 let his father see him cry, kept back the tears as big 
 as peas which came into his eyes. He pretended 
 that he was looking for his penknife, and reached La 
 Priche without giving way to his grief, though it was 
 hard enough to bear.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 FATHER CAILLAUD, seeing that they had brought 
 him the strongest and most industrious of the twins, 
 received him very kindly. He knew well enough 
 that it must have been very hard to decide upon this 
 step, and as he was a good man and a kind neighbor, 
 and also a great friend of Father Barbeau's, he did 
 his best to encourage the youngster and cheer him 
 up. He gave orders to bring him some soup at 
 once, and a pitcher of wine to raise his spirits, for 
 it was easy to see that he was very down-hearted. 
 Then he took him out to yoke up the oxen, and 
 showed him how it was done. Landry was not alto- 
 gether a novice at this kind of work ; for his father 
 had a fine pair of oxen, which he had often yoked 
 up, and which he drove remarkably well. As soon 
 as the boy saw Father Caillaud's big oxen, which 
 were the best cared for, the best fed, and the strong- 
 est breed of cattle in the country, he felt proud to 
 think of having such fine beasts at the end of his 
 goad. And then, too, he was glad of an opportunity 
 to prove that he was neither timid nor awkward, and 
 that his duties were not new to him. 
 
 His father did not stint his praises, and when the 
 time came to set out for the fields, all Father Cail- 
 24
 
 FADETTE 25 
 
 laud's children, boys and girls, little and big, came 
 and kissed the twin, and the youngest girl tied a 
 bunch of flowers to his hat with a ribbon, because 
 it was his first day at service and a kind of holiday 
 for the whole family. Before leaving, his father gave 
 him some advice in his new master's presence, telling 
 him to be sure and try to please him in everything, 
 and to take as good care of the cattle as if they 
 belonged to him. 
 
 And so Landry went to work, after promising to 
 do his best, and he kept up his courage and did good 
 service all day, coming home with a fine appetite ; for 
 it was the first time that he had worked so hard, and 
 there is no better remedy for grief than a little fatigue. 
 
 But time did not pass so rapidly at the Twinnery. 
 As soon as Sylvinet woke, and saw that his brother 
 was not at his side, he suspected what had happened, 
 but could not believe that Landry would go off like 
 that, without even saying good-bye to him ; and his 
 anger was almost equal to his grief. "What have 
 I done to him," said he to his mother ; " and how 
 could I have displeased him? I have always done 
 just what he told me to do, and when he urged me 
 not to cry before you, darling mother, I kept back 
 my tears, till I felt as if my head would burst. He 
 promised me that he would not go away till he had 
 said a few more encouraging words to me, and had 
 taken breakfast with me at the other end of the hemp 
 field, the place where we always used to go to play 
 and have our little talks. I wanted to do up his bun-
 
 26 FADETTE 
 
 die for him, and to give him my knife, which is better 
 than his. You did up his bundle yesterday evening, 
 without saying anything about it to me, mother, 
 did you know then that he was going away without 
 saying good-bye to me?" 
 
 " I did as your father wished me to do, " answered 
 his mother. 
 
 And she said everything she could think of to 
 comfort him. He would listen to nothing, and it 
 was only when he saw that she was crying too, 
 that he fell to kissing her, begged her pardon for 
 adding to her troubles, and promised to stay with 
 her to make amends. But as soon as she left him, 
 to attend to the poultry yard and the washing, he 
 ran off in the direction of La Priche without even 
 thinking where he was going, but obeying an in- 
 stinct, just as a pigeon follows its mate, never heed- 
 ing the road. 
 
 He would have gone all the way to La Priche, if he 
 had not met his father coming back, who took him 
 by the hand to lead him home, saying to him : 
 
 "We will go over this evening, but we must not 
 disturb your brother at his work ; his master would 
 not like that, and beside that, your mother is at 
 home, and it is your place to comfort her."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 SYLVINET went back home, and hung on his 
 mother's petticoats as he had done when he was a 
 little child, and never left her all day long, talking to 
 her continually about Landry, not being able to stop 
 thinking of him, and going into every nook and 
 corner where they had been together. That even- 
 ing he went over to La Priche with his father, who 
 wanted to accompany him. Sylvinet was wild with 
 impatience to embrace his brother, and he was so 
 eager to get off that he could not eat any supper. 
 He expected that Landry would come to meet him, 
 and imagined every moment that he saw him run- 
 ning toward them. But Landry never stirred, much 
 as he longed to do so. He was afraid that the young 
 people at La Priche would ridicule the affection be- 
 tween the twins, which was looked upon as a sort of 
 disease, so Sylvinet found him at the supper-table, 
 eating and drinking, as if he had been a member of 
 the Caillaud family all his life. 
 
 But Landry's heart leaped for joy when he saw him 
 
 enter, and if he had not restrained himself, he would 
 
 have upset table and bench in his eagerness to greet 
 
 his brother. But he did not dare ; for his master's 
 
 27
 
 28 FADETTE 
 
 family were watching him closely, much amused with 
 the novelty of the relation, and with this natural 
 phenomenon, as their schoolmaster called it. So 
 Sylvinet rushed up to him, kissing him and crying 
 over him, and cuddling up to him, as a bird nestles 
 against its mate, to keep warm. Landry was pro- 
 voked to have the others see him, though, as far as 
 his own feelings were concerned, he could not help 
 being delighted. He wished to appear more sensi- 
 ble than his brother, and kept making signs to him 
 to stop, much to Sylvinet's astonishment and dis- 
 tress. So the twins went out together Father 
 Barbeau having seated himself to drink a couple of 
 glasses of wine, and have a little chat with Father 
 Caillaud. Landry was longing for an opportunity to 
 kiss and hug his brother where nobody could see 
 them, but the other boys were watching them from 
 a distance, and even little Solange Father Cail- 
 laud's youngest daughter, who was as mischievous 
 and inquisitive as a linnet trotted after them to the 
 hazel copse, laughing shyly when they noticed her, 
 but persisting, under the impression that she must be 
 going to see something very extraordinary, though, 
 to tell the truth, it did not seem to her so very re- 
 markable that two brothers should love each other. 
 
 Sylvinet, though surprised at his brother's cool 
 reception, never thought of reproaching him, so glad 
 was he to be with him again. 
 
 Father Caillaud having told Landry that he might 
 have a holiday the next day, he started off so early
 
 FADETTE 29 
 
 that he expected to surprise his brother in bed. But 
 though Sylvinet was the heavier sleeper of the two, 
 he waked just as Landry climbed the orchard fence, 
 and ran out, barefooted, as if something had warned 
 him that his twin was coming. It was a day of per- 
 fect delight to Landry ; he was so glad to see his 
 family and his home, for he knew that he could not 
 go home every day, but must look upon it as a sort 
 of reward of merit. The first half of the day, Syl- 
 vinet forgot all his sorrows. At breakfast time he 
 looked forward to dining with his brother, but when 
 dinner was over, he remembered that supper would 
 be the last meal, and began to be anxious and un- 
 easy. He petted and coddled his brother to his 
 heart's content, giving him all the titbits, the 
 crusty bit of bread and the heart of the lettuce; 
 and then he fell to worrying over Landry's clothes 
 and shoes, as if he had a long distance to go, and 
 was greatly to be pitied, never suspecting that he was 
 himself more an object of compassion than Landry, 
 because he felt the separation most.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AND so the week passed by, Sylvinet going to 
 see Landry every day, and Landry stopping in for 
 a moment or two whenever he came in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Twinnery : Landry becoming more 
 and more reconciled to the separation, and Sylvi- 
 net, on the contrary, counting the days, the hours, 
 like a soul in torment. Nobody in the world 
 but Landry could make his brother listen to reason. 
 Even his mother appealed to him to try and induce 
 Sylvinet to be more reasonable, for the poor child's 
 grief increased from day to day. He would not 
 play, he never worked unless told to do so ; he still 
 took his little sister out walking, but never spoke 
 to her, and never did anything to amuse her, only 
 taking care that she did not fall down and hurt 
 herself. The moment nobody was looking, he went 
 off alone, and hid himself so cleverly that they could 
 not find him. He scrambled into ditches, hedges, 
 and ravines, where he and Landry used to play and 
 chat ; he sat on the stumps where they had sat to- 
 gether, and stuck his feet in all the little streams 
 where they had paddled about like a pair of little 
 ducklings. He was delighted when he found a few 
 30
 
 FADETTE 31 
 
 little bits of wood which Landry had whittled with 
 his garden knife, or some pebbles which he had used 
 as quoits or flints. He gathered them together and 
 hid them in a hollow tree or under a brush heap, so 
 that he might come and take them out every now and 
 then, as if they were great treasures. He kept rack- 
 ing his brain to recall anything which might serve to 
 remind him of his past happiness. Such things 
 would have meant nothing to anybody else, but to 
 him they meant everything. He gave no thought to 
 the future, not daring to face the prospect of a long 
 succession of days such as he was now enduring. 
 His thoughts were all in the past, and he went about 
 like one in a perpetual dream. 
 
 Sometimes he would fancy that he saw and heard 
 his twin, and then he talked to himself as if in answer 
 to Landry. Or he fell asleep wherever he might hap- 
 pen to be, dreaming about him - and when he awoke, 
 he wept to find himself alone, crying with all his 
 might, in hopes that fatigue would wear him out, and 
 so his pain would be eased. 
 
 One day when he had wandered as far as the 
 woods of Champceaux, he found on the edge of the 
 brook which ran through the wood in the rainy season 
 and which was now almost dried up, one of those 
 little mills which our children make out of twigs, and 
 which are so well constructed that they turn as the 
 water runs over them, and often last a long time, till 
 they are destroyed by other children, or swept away 
 by the floods. The one which Sylvinet found, quite
 
 32 FADETTE 
 
 safe and sound, had been there over two months, 
 and as it was a lonely nook, nobody had seen or 
 injured it. Sylvinet recognized it at once as his 
 brother's work, and remembered that when they had 
 made it they had intended to come again and see it. 
 But they had forgotten all about it, and since then 
 they had made a good many mills in other places. 
 
 So Sylvinet was glad to find it again, and carried 
 it a little lower down, where there was more water, to 
 see it turn, and recall the pleasure which he and 
 Landry had taken in setting it going. And then he 
 had left it there, intending to come back with Landry 
 the next Sunday to show him how long their mill had 
 lasted, because it was so well built. But he could 
 not resist the temptation to come there alone the 
 next day, and he found the edge of the brook all 
 muddy and trampled by the hoofs of cattle, which 
 had been turned out into the woods to pasture that 
 morning and had come down to the brook to drink. 
 He went a little farther, and saw that the cattle had 
 trodden his mill under foot, and crushed it into such 
 tiny bits that he could find only a few of them. He 
 felt very uneasy, and taking it into his head that 
 Landry must have met with some mishap that day, 
 he ran over to La Priche to convince himself that 
 nothing had happened to him. But, having noticed 
 that Landry did not like to have him come to see him 
 in the daytime, for fear that his master might think 
 that he was wasting his time, and be displeased, he 
 watched him from a distance, and did not show him-
 
 FADETTE 33 
 
 self. He would have been ashamed to confess what 
 brought him there, and so went home without saying 
 a word, and did not tell anybody till long afterward. 
 
 As he grew pale, slept badly, and ate hardly any- 
 thing, his mother was very much worried, and did 
 not know how to comfort him. She tried taking 
 him to market with her, or sending him to the cattle 
 fairs with his father and uncles, but nothing amused 
 or interested him, and Father Barbeau, without say- 
 ing anything to him about it, tried to persuade 
 Father Caillaud to take both twins into his service. 
 But Father Caillaud's reply was so sensible that he 
 could not help agreeing with him. 
 
 " Just suppose that I should take them both for a 
 time ; it could not be for long, because while we need 
 one helper, people like us cannot keep two. At the 
 end of the year, you would have to hire one of them 
 out to some one else. And don't you see that if 
 your Sylvinet were in a pla'".. where they would 
 make him work, he would have no time for moping, 
 and would do as his brother does, who behaves him- 
 self like a little man? It must come to that sooner 
 or later. Perhaps you may not be able to hire him 
 out just where you would like, and if these children 
 are to be further off from each other, and will not 
 meet oftener than once a week or once a month, you 
 had better begin at once, so that they may get used 
 to not living in each other's pockets. Be sensible, 
 old fellow, and don't pay so much attention to the 
 whims of a child whom your wife and your other 
 D
 
 34 FADETTE 
 
 children have fondled and petted too much. The 
 worst is over, and you may rest assured that he will 
 soon get accustomed to the rest, if you do not yield." 
 
 Father Barbeau gave in, and acknowledged that 
 the more Sylvinet saw of his twin, the more he 
 would want to see. So he determined that on next 
 St. John's Day, he would try and hire him out, so 
 that by seeing less and less of Landry, he would 
 finally form a habit of living like other people, and 
 not allow himself to be governed by an affection 
 which was injuring his health. 
 
 But he could not talk about it yet to Mother Bar- 
 beau, for, at the first word, she would cry her eyes 
 out. She said that it would be the death of Sylvinet, 
 and so Father Barbeau was in a great quandary. 
 
 Landry, by the advice of his father, his mother, and 
 also his master, tried to reason with his poor twin. 
 Sylvinet had nothing to say for himself; he promised 
 to do just what they wanted him to do, but could not 
 control his feelings. There was another trouble of 
 which he said nothing, because he was at loss how to 
 express himself. In the very bottom of his heart he 
 was jealous of Landry. Nothing pleased him more 
 than to see that everybody liked Landry, and that his 
 new master and mistress treated him as kindly as if 
 he were their own child. But if, on the one hand, he 
 was delighted at this, on the other, it annoyed him 
 when Landry seemed too fond of these new friends. 
 He could not bear to see him run off at a word from 
 Father Caillaud, no matter how gentle the summons
 
 FADETTE 35 
 
 or how much against his will it might be, leaving 
 his father, mother, or brother, more afraid of being 
 delinquent in duty than in affection, and more prompt 
 in obedience than Sylvinet could conceive of being, 
 when it was a question of remaining a few moments 
 longer with the objects of such devoted love. 
 
 Then the poor child was seized with a fear that 
 had not troubled him till now. It seemed to him 
 that the love was all on one side. That it was ill- 
 requited ; that this must always have been the case, 
 though he had not been conscious of it, or, rather, 
 that for some time back his brother's love for him 
 had cooled, because he had met people who were 
 more congenial to him, and whom he found more 
 agreeable.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LANDRY did not suspect that his brother was jealous, 
 for he had never in his life known what it is to be 
 jealous of anybody or anything. When Sylvinet 
 came to see him at La Priche, Landry entertained him 
 by taking him to see the big oxen, the fine cows, the 
 large flocks of sheep, and the abundant crops of 
 Father Caillaud's farm. Landry attached great value 
 to all these things, not that he was envious, but be- 
 cause he had a real taste for farming and cattle-raising, 
 and for everything which is attractive in country life. 
 He liked to see the colt which he led to pasture look 
 clean and fat and sleek, and he could not bear to see 
 the smallest piece of work neglected, nor any gift of 
 Our Dear Lord disregarded or despised, if it was capa- 
 ble of living and flourishing. Sylvinet cared nothing 
 for all these things, and could not understand how 
 they could have any interest for his brother. He 
 took offence at everything, and said to Landry : 
 
 " You seem to be very much taken with those big 
 oxen. You don't care any more for our little bullocks 
 who are so high-spirited and yet so gentle with us 
 two, that they would let you yoke them up sooner 
 than they would our father. You haven't even asked 
 36
 
 FADETTE 37 
 
 after our cow which gives such good milk, and who 
 looks at me so sadly, poor beast, when I go to feed her, 
 as if she understood that I am all alone, and wanted 
 to ask me what has become of the other twin." 
 
 " She is a good cow, that's true," said Landry, " but 
 just look at this one! You shall see them milk her, 
 and you never in your life saw so much milk at once." 
 
 " That may be," answered Sylvinet, " but I bet it is 
 not such good cream and milk as Brunette's, for the 
 grazing at the Twinnery is better than the grazing 
 about here." 
 
 " The deuce, it is ! " said Landry. " Don't you 
 suppose that my father would be glad to exchange, 
 if he could get Father Caillaud's fine hay fields in- 
 stead of his rush field down by the water?" 
 
 " Pooh ! " retorted Sylvinet, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " There are finer trees in the rush field than any of 
 yours, and as for the hay, if there isn't much of it, it 
 is fine, and when it is harvested it leaves a perfume 
 like balm all along the road." 
 
 And so they disputed about nothing ; for Landry 
 knew well enough that nobody's property is so fine 
 as one's own, and Sylvinet, in depreciating the La 
 Priche land, was not thinking of his own or anybody 
 else's. But under all these idle words, there was, on 
 the one hand, the boy who was willing to work and 
 live anywhere or anyhow, and, on the other hand, the 
 boy who could not understand how his brother 
 could enjoy a moment's ease and comfort away from 
 him.
 
 38 FADETTE 
 
 If Landry took him into his master's garden, 
 and interrupted their conversation to cut off a 
 dead branch from a grafted tree, or to pull up a 
 weed which had grown up among the vegetables, 
 Sylvinet got angry to see that he was always think- 
 ing of the interests of others, instead of being, 
 like himself, at his brother's beck and call. He 
 kept this to himself because he was ashamed of 
 being so touchy, but when he left, he often said 
 to Landry : 
 
 "Well, you've had enough of me to-day, perhaps 
 too much ; maybe it bores you to have me come 
 here." 
 
 Landry did not understand these reproaches, but 
 they hurt his feelings, and in return he reproached 
 his brother, who either could not or would not explain 
 himself. If the poor child was jealous of the slight- 
 est thing which interested Landry, he was still more 
 jealous of the people to whom Landry seemed to 
 be attached. He could not bear to see Landry on 
 friendly terms with the other boys at La Priche, and 
 when he saw him taking care of little Solange, pet- 
 ting or playing with her, he accused him of forget- 
 ting his little sister Nanette, who was, in his opinion, 
 a hundred times prettier, cleaner and sweeter than 
 that ugly little girl. 
 
 But as one is never just when one is eaten up 
 by jealousy when Landry came over to the Twin- 
 nery, it seemed to him that he took too much notice 
 of his little sister. Sylvinet accused him of devoting
 
 FADETTE 39 
 
 himself altogether to her, and of manifesting nothing 
 but indifference toward himself. 
 
 In fact, his affection became by degrees so exact- 
 ing, and he was so dull and melancholy, that Landry 
 began to find it disagreeable and did not care to see 
 too much of him. He was rather tired of his per- 
 petual reproaches for having accepted his lot as he 
 had done, and it certainly seemed as if Sylvinet 
 would be less miserable if he could make his brother 
 as miserable as himself. Landry saw, and tried to 
 make him see, that excessive affection is sometimes 
 injurious. Sylvinet would not believe it, and even 
 thought that his brother was very cruel to speak to 
 him so. And so he would have an occasional fit of 
 the sulks, and sometimes would not come to La Priche 
 for weeks at a time, though he was longing to go 
 there, and was acting entirely from a false sense 
 of pride. 
 
 And so it came to pass that, one word leading to 
 another, and quarrel begetting quarrel, Sylvinet al- 
 ways taking in bad part all Landry's kind and sen- 
 sible efforts to bring him to a better frame of mind, 
 poor Sylvinet became so perverse that he took it 
 into his head to hate his brother whom he had so 
 dearly loved, and one Sunday he left the house, so 
 as not to spend the day with Landry, who had not 
 once missed coming. 
 
 This piece of childish naughtiness was very dis- 
 tressing to Landry. He was fond of gayety and he 
 loved fun and frolic, for he grew stronger and more
 
 40 FADETTE 
 
 independent day by day. He led in every game, for 
 he had a keener eye and a more agile body than his 
 comrades. So it was something of a sacrifice which 
 he made for his brother's sake, when he left the 
 merry boys at La Priche, to spend every Sunday at 
 the Twinnery with Sylvinet, who would not hear to 
 going out to play on the public square of La Cosse, or 
 taking a walk in the neighborhood. Sylvinet, who 
 was much more childish in mind and body than his 
 brother, and whose one idea was to love and be loved 
 in return, wanted him to go off all alone to what he 
 called their places, the nooks and corners where 
 they used to play at those games which were no 
 longer suited to their age ; such as making little 
 wheelbarrows of osier, or little mills, or snares to 
 catch little birds ; or, perhaps, building houses out 
 of pebbles, or laying out fields the size of a hand- 
 kerchief, which children make believe to cultivate 
 in all sorts of ways, imitating on a small scale what 
 they see done by the ploughmen, sowers, harrowers, 
 weeders, and reapers, and thus teaching each other in 
 an hour's time all the different modes of cultivation, 
 and the rotation of crops which the earth bears in 
 the course of a year. 
 
 These amusements were no longer to Landry's 
 taste, now that he practised or helped to practise 
 them on a large scale, and he liked far better to 
 drive a large cart with six oxen, than to fasten a 
 little wagon made of twigs to his dog's tail. He 
 would much rather have gone and played skittles
 
 FADETTE 41 
 
 with the stout boys in the neighborhood, now that 
 he was skilful enough to lift the big ball and make 
 it hit the goal at thirty paces. When he got Sylvinet 
 to go with him, he sat in a corner and would neither 
 play nor say a word, ready to take offence and sulk, 
 if it seemed to him that Landry showed too great 
 pleasure and interest in the game. 
 
 Landry had also learned to dance at La Priche, and 
 although he had never cared for this amusement till 
 now, because Sylvinet did not like it, he already 
 danced as well as those who had been used to danc- 
 ing ever since they could walk. At La Priche they 
 considered him a good jig or bourre'e dancer, and 
 though, as yet, he did not take any pleasure in kiss- 
 ing the girls, as was customary in every figure, he 
 was quite willing to do it, because it made him 
 appear more manly ; and he even wished that the 
 girls would pretend to make a fuss about it as they 
 did with the men. But they did not as yet, and 
 some of the biggest ones even threw their arms 
 about his neck and laughed, much to his annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 Sylvinet had once seen him dance, and that had 
 been the cause of one of his worst fits of ill-humor. 
 He was so angry when he saw him kiss one of Father 
 Caillaud's daughters, that he shed tears of jealousy, 
 and thought the whole proceeding very unkind and 
 improper. 
 
 And so, each time that Landry sacrificed his own 
 enjoyment to his brother's exacting affection for him,
 
 42 FADETTE 
 
 he spent a rather dull Sunday ; yet he never failed to 
 come, knowing that it would gratify Sylvinet, and 
 willing to be bored a little for the sake of giving 
 his brother some pleasure. 
 
 So when he found that his brother, who had picked 
 a quarrel with him during the week, had left the 
 house so as not to make up with him, it was his 
 turn to feel hurt, and for the first time since he had 
 left home, he went off and hid himself to have a good 
 cry ; for he was ashamed to let his parents see how 
 much he felt Sylvinet's conduct, and did not wish to 
 add to" their troubles. 
 
 If anybody had cause for jealousy, it was Landry, 
 far more than Sylvinet. Sylvinet was his mother's 
 favorite, and even Father Barbeau, though in his 
 heart he preferred Landry, was more indulgent to 
 Sylvinet. The poor child, being more delicate and 
 not so bright, was also more spoiled, and they did 
 not like to cross him. His lot was the easier, for he 
 lived at home and his twin had sacrificed himself to 
 save him from leaving his parents and earning his 
 living by hard work. 
 
 This was the first time that Landry had taken this 
 view of the matter, and had come to the conclusion 
 that his brother was treating him with great injustice. 
 Hitherto his kind heart had prevented him from 
 blaming Sylvinet, and rather than accuse him, he 
 had thought that it must be his own fault, that he 
 was too overflowing with health and spirits, too fond 
 of work and of pleasure, and not so dependent on
 
 FADETTE 43 
 
 delicate attentions as his brother. But this time he 
 could not discover that he had been guilty of any 
 offence against their mutual affection ; for by com- 
 ing to-day, he had missed a delightful crabbing 
 party which the La Priche boys had been planning 
 all the week, and which they told him he would be 
 sure to enjoy, if he would only go with them. So 
 he had resisted a great temptation, and at his age 
 that is saying a good deal. When he had been cry- 
 ing a long time, he stopped to listen to some one else, 
 who was also crying not far off, and talking to her- 
 self as our peasant women often do when in trouble. 
 Landry knew at once that it was his mother, and 
 hastened to join her. 
 
 "Oh, for the love of Heaven, why does this child 
 make me suffer so? He will surely be the death of 
 me ! " said she, sobbing. 
 
 "Do I make you suffer?" exclaimed Landry, 
 throwing his arms around her neck. " If it is my 
 fault, punish me, but don't cry! I don't know what 
 I can have done to displease you, but I beg your 
 pardon, all the same." 
 
 Then his mother saw that Landry was not so hard- 
 hearted as she had so often imagined. She kissed 
 him tenderly, and hardly knowing what she said, she 
 was so agitated, she told him that it was not he but 
 Sylvinet who had grieved her; that although she 
 had sometimes done him an injustice, she now wished 
 to make amends for it ; but that Sylvinet seemed 
 to have lost his senses, and she was very unhappy
 
 44 FADETTE 
 
 about him, because he had gone off before daylight, 
 without taking anything to eat. It was now near 
 sunset, and he had not yet returned. He had been 
 seen about noonday, down by the river, and at last 
 Mother Barbeau began to fear that he had drowned 
 himself.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LANDRY'S imagination caught at this notion of his 
 mother's, that Sylvinet might have made way with 
 himself, as quickly as a spider's web catches a fly, and 
 he at once set out in search of his brother. He felt 
 very unhappy as he ran along, and said to himself: 
 " Perhaps my mother was right when she accused me 
 of being hard-hearted. But surely Sylvinet must be 
 hard-hearted too, or he would not cause my mother 
 and me so much anxiety." 
 
 He ran about in all directions without seeing any- 
 thing of him, asking after him from every one he 
 met, calling him without getting any answer ; but all 
 was in vain. At last he came to the rush field, and 
 went in, knowing that one of Sylvinet's haunts was 
 there. It was a deep hollow where the river had 
 washed away two or three alder trees, which still lay 
 with their roots uppermost. Father Barbeau would not 
 have them removed. He let them stay there, because 
 they had fallen in such a way that the earth still 
 adhered to their roots, which was very lucky ; for 
 every winter the water did a great deal of damage in 
 his rush field, and he lost a good bit of land each 
 year. 
 
 So Landry ran over to the " Hollow," as he and 
 his brother called that part of their rush field. He 
 45
 
 46 FADETTE 
 
 did not take time to go to the corner where they had 
 built themselves a little stairway of sods, supported 
 by stones, and big roots which protruded from the 
 earth and sent out young shoots. He jumped down 
 at the first place he came to, so as to get to the 
 bottom of the Hollow as soon as possible ; for the 
 grass and bushes along the river bank were so much 
 taller than he, that even if his brother had been 
 there, he could not have found him by looking 
 down from above. 
 
 So he entered the Hollow, feeling very anxious ; 
 for he could not help thinking of what his mother 
 had said about the possibility of Sylvinefs having 
 drowned himself. He went in and out among the 
 bushes, beating the grass, calling Sylvinet, and 
 whistling to the dog, which had probably followed 
 him ; for he had been gone all day, as well as his 
 young master. 
 
 But in spite of all his efforts, there was none but 
 himself to be found in the Hollow. As he was a 
 very observing boy, and did everything very thor- 
 oughly, he examined the banks to see if he could 
 find any footprints, or any place where the earth 
 seemed to be disturbed. It was an anxious and 
 troublesome search ; for Landry had not been there 
 for over a month, and though he knew each nook 
 and corner of the ground as well as he did his own 
 hand, it was impossible that there should not have 
 been some slight change. The entire right bank 
 was covered with turf, and even at the bottom of
 
 FADETTE 47 
 
 the Hollow the rushes and horsetails had grown up 
 so rank and luxuriant, that there was not a bare spot 
 big enough to hold a footprint. 
 
 However, after a long search, Landry found the 
 impress of a dog's paw in a remote corner. There 
 was also a spot where the grass had been trampled 
 down, as if Finot, or some other dog of his size, had 
 lain there curled up. This attracted his notice, and 
 he made a still more minute examination of the 
 river bank. He found what seemed to him a fresh 
 break, as if made by the foot of a person jumping 
 or sliding down the slope, though it was quite pos- 
 sible that it was the work of one of those big water- 
 rats, which scratch and dig and gnaw in such places. 
 He was so alarmed that his legs refused to carry him, 
 and he fell on his knees as if to ask for help from 
 Heaven. 
 
 He remained in this position for a short time, hav- 
 ing neither strength nor courage to go and tell any- 
 body what had caused his alarm, and gazing at the 
 river with tearful eyes, as if asking what had become 
 of his brother. And all the while the river flowed 
 tranquilly on, swaying the branches of the trees 
 which hung over its banks, dipping their twigs in 
 its waters, and pursuing its course through the fields, 
 murmuring low to itself, with a sound like mocking 
 laughter. 
 
 Poor Landry was so possessed with the idea that 
 some terrible misfortune had occurred, that he lost 
 his head completely, and magnified a trifle which
 
 48 FADETTE 
 
 was, no doubt, quite easy to explain, till it drove him 
 to absolute desperation. " This wicked river which 
 will not answer me," thought he, " and which would 
 let me go on weeping a whole year, without giving 
 me back my brother, is deepest just at that place, and 
 is so filled with stumps since the time of the inun- 
 dation, that it would be impossible to get out again, 
 if one should fall in. Great God! can it be possible 
 that my twin is in there, under the water, lying 
 scarcely two feet away from me and I could never 
 find him among the reeds and branches even if I 
 should go down there!" 
 
 So he began to weep for his brother, and to re- 
 proach him, for never in his life had he been so 
 unhappy. 
 
 At last it occurred to him to consult a widow, 
 named Mother Fadet, who lived at the other end 
 of the rush field, near the road which led down to 
 the ford. This woman, whose only property con- 
 sisted of her little garden and house, never lacked 
 for bread ; for she was very learned in all that relates 
 to human ills and mishaps, and people came from 
 far and near to consult her. She was a magic healer ; 
 that is to say, she cured wounds, bruises, and all 
 sorts of fractures, by means known only to herself. 
 Indeed, she took rather too much upon herself, for 
 she claimed to be able to cure diseases which never 
 existed ; such as displacement of the stomach, or 
 rupture of the abdominal wall, and I must say I 
 have never put much faith in the possibility of such
 
 FADETTE 49 
 
 ailments, any more than I could believe that she had 
 power to cause a good cow's milk to pass into the 
 body of a poor one, however old or ill-fed she might 
 be. 
 
 But there is no doubt she earned her money hon- 
 estly by her excellent remedies for chills, her healing 
 plasters for cuts and burns, and the potions which 
 she concocted to allay fever, and that she had saved 
 many a patient whom the doctors would have killed, 
 had they been allowed to prescribe for them. At 
 least, so she said, and those whom she had bene- 
 fited thought best to believe her, instead of express- 
 ing any doubts. As country folks always suspect 
 any one who has any special skill of being in league 
 with the devil, many people believed that Mother 
 Fadet knew much more than she was willing to 
 tell, and it was said that she could find lost things 
 and even persons. In fact, because she was clever 
 enough to be able to assist people in natural and pos- 
 sible ways, they took it for granted that she could do 
 the same in things beyond human ken. 
 
 As children listen eagerly to all sorts of stories, 
 Landry had heard from the La Priche folks, who are 
 known to be more simple-minded and credulous than 
 they are at La Cosse, that Mother Fadet could find 
 the body of a person who had been drowned, by 
 means of a certain seed which she threw into the 
 water, pronouncing a spell as she did so. The seed 
 floated on the surface of the water, and the poor 
 body was certain to be found where it stopped. 
 E
 
 50 FADETTE 
 
 There are many persons who believe that blessed 
 bread has the same wonderful properties, and there 
 are few mills where they do not keep a supply on hand 
 for such emergencies. But Landry had none ; Mother 
 Fadet lived close by the rush field, and there is no 
 time for reflection when one is in such distress. 
 
 So off he ran to Mother Fadet's dwelling, and told 
 her the trouble he was in, and begged her to come to 
 the Hollow with him, and use her magic to find his 
 brother, alive or dead. 
 
 But Mother Fadet, who did not care to risk her 
 reputation, and was not at all disposed to exercise 
 her talents for nothing, laughed at him, and ordered 
 him away harshly enough ; for she had taken great 
 offence when the family at the Twinnery had employed 
 La Sagette as nurse in preference to herself, as had 
 happened more than once in the past. 
 
 Landry, who had his own share of pride, would 
 probably, at any other time, have protested or given 
 her a sharp answer, but he was so agitated that he 
 had not a word to say, and started to go back to the 
 Hollow, determined to jump into the water, though 
 he could neither dive nor swim. But as he trudged 
 along with drooping head, and eyes fixed on the 
 ground, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turning 
 round saw Mother Fadet's granddaughter, whom the 
 country people called little Fadette, as much because 
 she was herself a bit of a witch as because it was her 
 family name. As you all know, the fadet or the far- 
 fadet, which in other places is called the will-o'-the-
 
 FADETTE 51 
 
 wisp, is a very pretty little sprite though rather mis- 
 chievous. Fairies are also called fades in our part of 
 the country, though nobody believes in them nowa- 
 days. But whether they meant a little fairy or a 
 female spirit, nobody could look at her without think- 
 ing of a will-o'-the-wisp, she was so little, so thin, 
 so dishevelled and so bold. She was a very talkative 
 and saucy child, lively as a butterfly, inquisitive as a 
 robin redbreast, and brown as a cricket. 
 
 And when I compare little Fadette to a cricket, I 
 mean to say that she was not pretty ; for this poor 
 little field chirper is still uglier than his brother of 
 the chimney corner. If, however, you can remember 
 how you used to play with them when you were a 
 child, teasing them and making them chirp angrily in 
 your sabot, you must know that they have queer, in- 
 telligent little faces, which make you feel more like 
 laughing at them than getting angry. So the children 
 of La Cosse, who were as clever as other children 
 and as quick to notice resemblances and make com- 
 parisons, called little Fadette the " Cricket," when 
 they wanted to make her mad, and sometimes by way 
 of a pet name ; for though they stood a little in awe 
 of her on account of her impish ways, they did not 
 dislike her, for she told them all sorts of stories and 
 was always teaching them new games which she had 
 the wit to invent. 
 
 But all these names and nicknames have made me 
 forget to mention the one which was bestowed upon 
 her in baptism, and which you would perhaps like to
 
 52 FADETTE 
 
 know later on. Her name was Fran9oise, and so her 
 grandmother, who did not like nicknames, called her 
 Fanchon. 
 
 As there was a coolness of long standing between 
 the Twinnery folks and Mother Fadet, the twins 
 never talked much to little Fadette ; indeed, they 
 rather avoided her, and never cared to play with her 
 or her little brother, the "Grasshopper," who was 
 more dried up and impish-looking than his sister, and 
 was always hanging on to her skirts, flying into a 
 rage when she ran off without waiting for him, trying 
 to throw stones at her when she teased him, getting 
 more furious than would seem possible for one of his 
 size, and provoking her in spite of herself, for she 
 was a merry little thing and ready to laugh at any- 
 thing. But there was such an impression prevailing 
 about Mother Fadet that some people, especially 
 the Barbeaus, fancied that the "Cricket" and the 
 " Grasshopper " would bring them some ill-luck if 
 they made friends with them. This did not prevent 
 the two children from speaking to them, for they 
 were not bashful, and little Fadette never failed to 
 call out all sorts of nicknames and nonsense after the 
 twins of the Twinnery, as far off as she could see 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 So poor Landry turned around, rather irritated by 
 the tap on his shoulder, and saw little Fadette, and 
 not far behind her, Jeanet, the Grasshopper, hob- 
 bling along after her, for he had been born with a 
 misshapen body and crooked legs. 
 
 At first Landry refused to take any notice of them, 
 but kept right on, for he was in no mood for fun- 
 making ; but Fadette said to him, tapping him on 
 the other shoulder : 
 
 " Wolf! Wolf! you naughty twin ; you half a boy, 
 who has lost his other half!" Thereupon Landry, 
 who was no more in the mood to be insulted than 
 to stand teasing, turned and aimed a blow of his fist 
 at little Fadette, which would have hurt her, had she 
 not dodged aside ; for the twin was going on fifteen, 
 and knew the use of his arms, and she, though nearly 
 fourteen, was so slender and delicate that she did not 
 look more than twelve, and seemed as if she would 
 break in two if you touched her. 
 
 But she was too nimble and too much on her guard 
 to stand still and take his blows, and what she lacked 
 in strength she made up in agility and cunning. 
 She dodged so cleverly around a big tree, that Lan- 
 dry came near running his nose and his fist against it 
 53
 
 54 FADETTE 
 
 " You good-for-nothing Cricket ! " cried Landry, in 
 a rage; ''you must be perfectly heartless to try and 
 torment any one who is in such trouble as I am! 
 You've been teasing me this long while back, by call- 
 ing me a half-boy, and I've a great mind to break you 
 and your ugly Grasshopper into quarters, to see if 
 both of you together would make a quarter of any- 
 thing decent." 
 
 "Indeed, my fine twin of the Twinnery! Lord of 
 the rush field on the river bank!" answered little 
 Fadette, sneering at him again. "You are a great 
 fool to quarrel with me just when I was about to give 
 you some news of your twin and tell you where to find 
 him." 
 
 " That is a different thing," said Landry, quieting 
 down at once ; " do tell me, Fadette, if you know ; I 
 shall be so thankful. 15 
 
 " Fadette doesn't care to please you any more than 
 the Cricket did a little while ago," answered the 
 little girl. "You have been abusing me, and you 
 would have struck me, if you had not been so awk- 
 ward and clumsy. Go and find your fool of a 
 brother yourself, if you know so much about it." 
 
 "I am a fool to listen to you, you wicked girl," 
 said Landry, turning his back on her, and walking 
 on. "You don't know where my brother is any 
 more than I do, and you are no wiser than your 
 grandmother, who is an old liar and as worthless as 
 she can be." 
 
 But little Fadette, dragging her little Grasshopper
 
 FADETTE 55 
 
 along by one claw, for he had managed to catch 
 up to her and was hanging on to her ragged, ash- 
 covered petticoats, followed on behind Landry, 
 jeering at him and telling him that he would never 
 find his brother without her help. So Landry, not 
 being able to get rid of her and fancying that she 
 or her grandmother by some piece of witchcraft or 
 by connivance with the will-o'-the-wisp of the river 
 might prevent his finding Sylvinet, determined to 
 take a short cut across the rush field and go home. 
 
 Little Fadette followed him to the turnstile which 
 led into the meadow, and when he had crossed it, she 
 perched herself on the top rail like a magpie, and 
 called after him : 
 
 "Good-bye, you pretty, hard-hearted twin! who 
 leaves his brother behind him. You may wait sup- 
 per as long as you like, you won't see him to-day or 
 to-morrow either! He can't stir from where he is, 
 any more than a stone, and there is a storm coming 
 up! There will be more trees in the river to-night, 
 and the river will carry Sylvinet away, so far, so far 
 that you will never find him again! " 
 
 These spiteful words, to which Landry could not 
 help listening, made a cold sweat break out all over 
 his body. He did not absolutely believe them, but 
 the Fadet family had so well established a reputation 
 for dealings with the devil, that one could not be 
 certain that there was nothing in it. 
 
 "See here, Fanchon!" said Landry, standing still, 
 "tell me, yes or no, will you leave me alone, or
 
 56 FADETTE 
 
 say whether you really know anything about my 
 brother ! " 
 
 " And what will you give me if I help you find 
 your brother before it begins to rain ? " asked Fadette, 
 standing on the top rail and waving her arms as if 
 about to fly. 
 
 Landry did not know what to promise her, but he 
 began to think that she was trying to get some 
 money out of him. But the wind whistling through 
 the trees, and the distant rumble of thunder, worked 
 him up into a perfect panic. It was not that he was 
 afraid of an ordinary storm, but this one had come 
 up so suddenly and in a way which seemed to him 
 supernatural. It may be that in his agitation 
 Landry had not noticed it gathering behind the trees 
 along the river bank, particularly as, having spent 
 two hours in the Hollow down by the Val, he had 
 not been able to see the sky till he had reached 
 high ground. But, however that may be, he had 
 not noticed that there was a storm brewing till the 
 moment when little Fadette announced it, when lo 
 and behold! out flew her skirt, her ugly black hail 
 escaped from under her cap, which was always untied 
 and tilted over one ear, and stood out like a mane. 
 
 The Grasshopper's cap was carried away by a gust, 
 and Landry had all that he could do to keep his hat 
 from following it. 
 
 In less than two minutes the sky had grown very 
 black, and Fadette, standing on the rail, looked twice 
 as tall as usual ; in short, we may as well own that 
 Landry was frightened.
 
 FADETTE 57 
 
 " Fanchon," said he, " I will give in, if you will 
 give me back my brother. Maybe you've seen him 
 and know where he is. Come, be a good girl! I 
 can 1 ! see what pleasure you can take in seeing me 
 suffer. Show me that you have a kind heart, and I 
 will believe that you are better than one would sup 
 pose from your looks and words." 
 
 " And why should I be a good girl to please you ? " 
 answered she, " when you treat me as if I were a bad 
 girl, though I have never done anything to you? 
 Why should I be good to twins who are as proud as 
 peacocks, and who have never shown me the least 
 little bit of kindness? " 
 
 " Come, Fadette," said Landry, " you want me to 
 promise you something. Tell me quick what you 
 want, and I will give it to you. Would you like to 
 have my new knife ? " 
 
 " Let me see it," cried Fadette, leaping down be- 
 side him like a frog. 
 
 When she had seen the knife, which was a pretty 
 good one, for which Landry's godfather had paid ten 
 sous at the last fair, she was tempted for a moment. 
 But she soon decided it was not enough, and asked 
 him if he would give her instead his little white hen 
 which was no bigger than a pigeon and had feathers 
 down to the very tips of its toes. 
 
 " I can't promise you my white hen, because she 
 belongs to my mother," answered Landry ; " but I 
 promise that I will ask her to give it to you, and I 
 am sure that she won't refuse, for she will be so glad
 
 58 FADETTE 
 
 to get Sylvinet back again that she will not grudge 
 you anything." 
 
 "Indeed!" said little Fadette; " and what if I 
 should take it into my head to ask for your black- 
 nosed kid ; would Mother Barbeau give me that 
 too?" 
 
 " Good heavens ! How long it takes you to make 
 up your mind, Fanchon! Listen! There are no 
 two words about it? If my brother is in danger, 
 and you take me to him at once, I am very sure 
 there is not a hen or a chicken, a goat or a kid, about 
 the place, which my father and mother would not 
 gladly give you as a reward." 
 
 "Well! We'll see about it, Landry," said little 
 Fadette, holding out her scrawny little hand to the 
 boy, so that they might shake hands on their bargain, 
 which he did, but not without fear and trembling ; for 
 at that moment her eyes glowed so that she looked 
 a very incarnation of the will-o'-the-wisp. " I will 
 not tell you what I want of you! perhaps I have not 
 yet made up my mind ; but don't forget what you 
 have promised me, and if you do not keep your prom- 
 ise to me, I shall tell everybody that there is no 
 trusting the word of Landry, the twin. So now 
 good-bye, and don't forget that I shall not ask you 
 for anything till the day when I take it into my head 
 to hunt you up, and demand something which you 
 must place at my disposal at once, and with a good 
 grace." 
 
 " All right, Fadette ! I promise you ; it is a bar- 
 gain, " said Landry, shaking hands with her.
 
 FADETTE 59 
 
 " Well," said she, looking quite pleased and proud, 
 " go back to the river bank, and keep on till you hear 
 a bleating, and where you see a black lamb, you will 
 see your brother too. If it doesn't turn out as I tell 
 you, I let you off your promise." 
 
 And then the Cricket, tucking the Grasshopper 
 under her arm, and never heeding his struggles, for 
 he wriggled like an eel, ran off into the bushes, and 
 Landry saw or heard no more of them than if it had 
 all been a dream. He wasted no time wondering 
 whether little Fadette had been making fun of him. 
 He hurried to the other end of the rush field, without 
 drawing breath ; he ran along its border till he 
 reached the Hollow, and then he was about to go on 
 without stopping, as he had already examined the 
 spot so closely that he was sure Sylvinet was not 
 there, but just at that moment he heard the bleating 
 of a lamb. 
 
 "Oh, my God!" thought he, "that girl told the 
 truth. I hear the lamb, my brother must be there, 
 but I don't know whether he is dead or alive! " 
 
 He jumped down into the Hollow and pushed his 
 way through the bushes. His brother was not there ;- 
 but following the stream for ten paces or so, still 
 hearing the lamb bleat, Landry saw his brother 
 sitting on the opposite bank, holding a little lamb in 
 his blouse, which was indeed quite black, from the 
 tip of its nose to the end of its tail. 
 
 As Sylvinet was very much alive indeed, and bore 
 no traces of any injury about his clothes or his per-
 
 60 FADETTE 
 
 son, Landry was so overjoyed that he fell to thanking 
 God in his heart, and never thought of asking par- 
 don for having resorted to the assistance of the devil, 
 that he might attain this happiness. But as he was 
 about to call out to Sylvinet, who had not yet seen 
 him, and did not appear to have heard him, on ac- 
 count of the rippling of the water over the stones, he 
 paused to take a look at him ; for he was amazed to 
 find him just as little Fadette had predicted, sitting 
 as still as a stone among the trees, through which 
 the wind was howling like a tempest. 
 
 Every one knows that it is dangerous to remain 
 close to our river when the wind is blowing hard. All 
 its banks are undermined, and there is not a storm 
 which does not uproot some of the many alder trees, 
 which always have short roots, unless they are very 
 large and old, and which are likely to fall on you 
 without any warning. But Sylvinet, though he had as 
 good sense as the next one, did not seem to be aware 
 of his danger. He appeared to think himself as safe 
 as if he had taken shelter in a good barn. Tired out 
 with his all-day tramp, and his aimless wanderings, 
 though, as it happened, he had not drowned himself 
 in the river, it was easy enough to see that he was so 
 overwhelmed with grief and so heavy-hearted that 
 he lay there like a log, his eyes fixed on the stream, 
 his face as pale as a water-lily, his mouth half open 
 like a little fish gaping at the sun, his hair blown 
 about by the wind, and not even taking any notice 
 of the lamb, which he had found roaming about in
 
 FADETTE 61 
 
 the meadow, and had carried with him out of pity. 
 He had put it in his blouse, intending to return it to 
 its owner, but had forgotten to ask along the road 
 to whom the lamb belonged. He let it lie on his 
 lap and did not listen to its bleatings, though the 
 poor little thing kept up a most mournful noise, and 
 looked about with its big, bright eyes, wondering that 
 none of its kindred were there to hear its cries. This 
 shady spot, all overgrown with grass, beside a large 
 stream of water, which, no doubt, seemed very alarm- 
 ing to the poor little beast, looked very unfamiliar, 
 and not at all like its native meadow, where were its 
 mother and its fold.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IF Landry had not been separated from Sylvinet 
 by the river, which is nowhere more than four or five 
 yards wide, but which at some points is as deep as 
 it is broad, he would certainly have rushed into his 
 brother's arms, without a moment's hesitation. But 
 as Sylvinet had not even seen him, he had time to 
 think how he might rouse him from his meditations, 
 and persuade him to go home ; for if the poor, sulky 
 boy should not be willing to go, he could easily 
 run away, and it would take Landry some time to 
 find a ford or a foot-bridge so as to follow him. So 
 Landry, after thinking it over a little while, tried 
 to imagine what his father would have done in such 
 a case ; for he knew him to be a sensible man, with 
 prudence enough tor four. Luckily, he came to the 
 conclusion that Father Barbeau would take it very 
 quietly, pretending that there was nothing out of the 
 way, so as not to let Sylvinet know how much anxi- 
 ety he had caused, that he might neither repent it 
 too bitterly, nor be disposed to try it again the next 
 time anything happened to offend him. 
 
 So he began to whistle as if trying to make the 
 blackbirds sing, just as the shepherd boys do when 
 they go through the bushes at nightfall. 
 62
 
 FADETTE 63 
 
 This made Sylvinet raise his head, and when he 
 saw his brother, he was ashamed of himself, and got 
 up at once, thinking that Landry had not seen him. 
 Then Landry pretended that he had just caught sight 
 of him, and called to him in his ordinary tone of 
 voice, for the river did not make enough noise to 
 prevent their talking to each other : 
 
 "Hello, Sylvinet! Is that you? I waited for you 
 all the morning, and finding that you had gone out 
 for such a long time, I walked over here while they 
 were getting supper, and expected to find you at 
 home when I went back. But now that you are here, 
 we'll go back together. We can go down the river, 
 one on either side, and we 1 !! meet at the Roulettes 
 ford." 
 
 " Come along," said Sylvinet, picking up his lamb, 
 which did not know him well enough to follow of its 
 own accord, and they walked down the river, not dar- 
 ing to look at each other; for neither wished the 
 other to see how much he had suffered on account of 
 the quarrel, nor how glad he was to see his brother 
 once more. Every now and then Landry said a word 
 or two as they walked along, so that he might not 
 appear to notice his brother's sullen mood. First he 
 asked him where he had found the little black lamb, 
 and Sylvinet rather evaded the question, for he did 
 not even know the names of the places through which 
 he had passed. So then, Landry, seeing his embar- 
 rassment, said to him, "You may tell me all about 
 it by and bye, for the wind is high, and it is danger-
 
 64 FADETTE 
 
 ous to stay among the trees by the river. But luckily 
 it is beginning to rain, and the wind will soon fall." 
 
 And he said to himself: "The Cricket was right 
 when she said that I should find him before the rain 
 began. That girl certainly does know more than the 
 rest of us." 
 
 He did not take into consideration that he had 
 wasted fully a quarter of an hour explaining his er- 
 rand to Mother Fadet she refusing to listen to his 
 entreaties and that little Fadette, whom he had not 
 seen till he was conning out of the house, might very 
 readily have caught sight of Sylvinet during that 
 explanation. At length it occurred to him to wonder 
 how she had known so well what he was worrying 
 about when she spoke to him, for she had not been 
 present during his conversation with the old woman. 
 He forgot that, on his way from the rush field, he had 
 inquired of several persons whether they had seen 
 his brother, and that very likely some one had men- 
 tioned it before little Fadette, or that perhaps the 
 little girl might have overheard the conclusion of his 
 conversation with her grandmother hiding herself, 
 as she was in the habit of doing, so that she might 
 gratify her curiosity. Now Sylvinet, on the other 
 hand, was wondering how he could explain his bad 
 behavior to his mother and brother ; for Landry's 
 ruse had taken him by surprise, and he could not 
 think of anything to say he who had never told a 
 lie in his life, and who had never kept anything from 
 his brother.
 
 FADETTE 65 
 
 So he felt very uneasy as he crossed the ford, for 
 he had not yet thought of any excuse to make. As 
 soon as he reached the opposite bank, Landry em- 
 braced him, and, in spite of himself, he could not 
 help showing more affection than usual. But he re- 
 frained from asking any questions, for he saw plainly 
 enough that Sylvinet had nothing to say for himself, 
 and on the way home he talked about every imagi- 
 nable thing but the subject uppermost in the minds 
 of both. As he passed Mother Fadefs house, he 
 looked about for little Fadette, for he felt as if he 
 should like to go and thank her. But the door was 
 shut, and there was no sound to be heard, except the 
 Grasshopper howling because his grandmother had 
 thrashed him, which she did every evening, whether 
 he had done anything to deserve it or not. 
 
 Sylvinet was worried when he heard the young 
 scamp crying, and said to his brother : 
 
 " You always hear screaming and the sound of 
 blows from that abominable house. I know the 
 Grasshopper is as naughty and provoking as he can 
 be, and as for the Cricket, I wouldn't give two cents 
 for her. But those poor children have no father or 
 mother, and are dependent on that old witch, who is 
 always in a bad humor, and never overlooks anything 
 they do." 
 
 " That isn't the way at our house," answered 
 
 Landry. "Our father and mother have never given 
 
 us a whipping in our lives, and even when they 
 
 scolded us for some childish piece of mischief, they 
 
 F
 
 66 FADETTE 
 
 did it so quietly and gently that the neighbors could 
 not hear them. There are some people who don't 
 know when they are well off, and yet little Fadette, 
 who is the most unfortunate and ill-used child on 
 earth, is always laughing, and never utters a com- 
 plaint." 
 
 Sylvinet took the hint and was sorry for what he 
 had done. He had repented many a time since 
 morning, and more than twenty times had he been 
 on the point of going home, but shame had held him 
 back. Now his breast heaved, and he wept silently. 
 But his brother took him by the hand and said to 
 him, "It is raining hard, Sylvinet ; let us run a race 
 to the house!" 
 
 So they began to run, Landry trying to make Syl- 
 vinet laugh, and Sylvinet forcing a smile to please 
 him. 
 
 Yet when they reached the house, Sylvinet had a 
 great mind to go and hide in the barn ; for he was 
 afraid that his father would reprove him. But Father 
 Barbeau, who did not take things so seriously as his 
 wife did, only laughed at him ; and Mother Barbeau, 
 who had had a long talk with her husband, tried not 
 to let Sylvinet see how anxious she had been about 
 him. But while she was drying her twins in front 
 of the fire, and giving them their supper, Sylvinet 
 noticed that every now and then she gave him a 
 look full of distress and anxiety. 
 
 Had he been alone with her, he would have begged 
 her pardon, and consoled her with his caresses, but
 
 FADETTE 67 
 
 his father disapproved of such blandishments, and 
 Sylvinet did not get an opportunity to say a word to 
 her, for he was so overcome with fatigue, that he 
 had to go to bed immediately after supper. He .had 
 eaten nothing all day, and as soon as he had swal- 
 lowed his supper, of which he stood greatly in 
 need, he felt as if he were tipsy, and his twin had 
 to undress him and put him to bed, but sat down on 
 the edge of the bed beside him, holding his hand. 
 
 When he saw that Sylvinet was sound asleep, 
 Landry said good-night to his parents, and never 
 noticed that his mother kissed him more tenderly 
 than usual. He always believed that she could not 
 love him as well as she did his brother, and he was 
 not in the least jealous ; for he thought that he was 
 not so lovable as Sylvinet, and that he got his full 
 share of his mother's affection. He resigned himself 
 to this, as much to show respect to his mother, as 
 out of love for his brother, who stood more in need 
 of petting and coddling than he did. The next 
 morning Sylvinet ran to Mother Barbeau's bed be- 
 fore she was up, and opened his heart to her, con- 
 fessing his sorrow and shame. He told her how 
 unhappy he had been for some time past, not so 
 much on account of his separation from Landry, as 
 because he fancied that Landry no longer loved him. 
 And when his mother asked him why he was so un- 
 just to Landry, he could give no reason ; for it seemed 
 to be a kind of disease, which he found it impossible 
 to resist. His mother understood him better than
 
 68 FADETTE 
 
 she allowed him to suspect ; for a woman's heart is 
 prone to such torments, and she had herself often 
 suffered when she saw how self-reliant and independ- 
 ent Landry was. But now she realized how wrong 
 it is to allow oneself to be jealous even in those rela- 
 tions of life which have the express sanction of God, 
 and she took good care not to encourage this feeling 
 in Sylvinet. She pointed out to him how much 
 trouble he had caused his brother, and how kind 
 Landry had been not to complain of him, or seem 
 out of patience with him. Sylvinet agreed with her, 
 and owned that his brother was a better Christian 
 than himself. He promised and vowed that he would 
 cure himself of this fault, and he was thoroughly in 
 earnest. 
 
 But do what he would, though he tried to seem 
 happy and contented, though his mother had dried 
 his tears and soothed his woes, and though he did 
 his utmost to treat his brother naturally and justly, 
 there was still a little leaven of bitterness fermenting 
 in his heart. 
 
 He could not help saying to himself: " My brother 
 is a better Christian than I am, and he is more up- 
 right and honorable : my mother says so, and it is 
 true, but if he were as fond of me as I am of him, he 
 could never have given in as he has done." 
 
 And then he remembered how cool and indifferent 
 Landry had seemed when he found him by the river. 
 How he had heard him whistling to the blackbirds 
 while he was looking for him, at the very moment
 
 FADETTE 69 
 
 when he, Sylvinet, was thinking of throwing himself 
 into the river. For though he had no idea of such 
 a thing when he left home, it had occurred to him 
 more than once toward evening ; for he thought that 
 his brother would never forgive him because he had 
 gone off in a fit of the sulks, and had avoided him 
 as he had never done before. 
 
 "If he had treated me so," thought he, " I should 
 never have forgotten it. I am very glad that he has 
 forgiven me, but I did not, expect that he would for- 
 give me so readily." 
 
 Then the poor child sighed in his efforts to struggle 
 against his unhappy weakness, and his struggles did 
 not cease with his sighs. 
 
 However, as God always rewards and assists those 
 who try to please Him, Sylvinet really was more sen- 
 sible the remainder of the year. He did not sulk or 
 quarrel with his brother ; in fact, his love was more 
 moderate, and his health, which had been impaired 
 by all this distress of mind, was re-established, and 
 he began to gain strength. His father gave him 
 more work to do, noticing that the less time he had 
 for thinking, the better he felt. But it is always 
 easier to work for one's parents than to work else- 
 where for hire, and Landry, who did not spare him- 
 self, increased so in strength and size that year, that 
 he far outstripped his brother. The slight points 
 of difference between them became more marked, 
 and passed from their moral natures to their physical. 
 By the time they had completed their fifteenth year,
 
 70 FADETTE 
 
 Landry was a fine-looking young man, while Sylvinet 
 was still a pretty boy, paler and more slender than 
 his brother. So they were no longer mistaken for 
 each other, and though they still looked like brothers, 
 no one took them for twins at first sight. Landry, 
 who was born an hour after Sylvinet, and on that 
 account was called the younger, impressed strangers 
 as being a year or two the elder. So Father Bar- 
 beau's preference for him became more and more 
 marked ; for, like most country people, he valued 
 strength and size above everything.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 FOR a short time after Landry's adventure with 
 little Fadette, the boy worried a good deal about the 
 promise he had made her. At the time when she 
 had relieved his anxiety, he would willingly have 
 pledged himself that his father and mother would 
 give her a choice of anything the Twinnery con- 
 tained. But when he saw that Father Barbeau had 
 not taken Sylvi net's fit of the sulks so very much to 
 heart, he was afraid that when little Fadette came to 
 claim her reward, his father might shut the door in 
 her face, and ridicule her pretensions and the fine 
 promise which Landry had made her. Landry was 
 very much mortified at this idea, and as his trouble 
 wore off, it seemed to him that he had been very 
 silly to fancy that there was anything of the super- 
 natural in the occurrences of that afternoon. He was 
 suspicious that little Fadette had been making a fool of 
 him, though there might be some doubt on that sub- 
 ject, and he could think of no good reasons to give 
 his father by way of proving to him that he had acted 
 wisely in making an agreement which entailed such 
 serious consequences. On the other hand, it did 
 not seem possible to break the contract ; for he had 
 71
 
 72 FADETTE 
 
 pledged his word in perfect honor and sincerity. But, 
 to his great surprise, neither the day following his 
 adventure, nor that month, nor during the whole sea- 
 son, did he hear anything about little Fadette at the 
 Twinnery or at La Priche. She did not come to 
 Father Caillaud's and ask to see Landry, nor did she 
 go to Father Barbeau's to put in her claim, and when 
 Landry got a distant view of her in the fields she did 
 not come to meet him, and never took any notice of 
 him, which was quite unlike her ; for she was in the 
 habit of running after everybody, staring at them in- 
 quisitively, laughing, joking, and chaffing with those 
 who were in a good humor, or scoffing and jeering at 
 those who were not. But as Mother Fadet lived 
 about half-way between La Priche and La Cosse, 
 Landry would be certain to meet little Fadette some 
 day, face to face, in the road ; and when the road is 
 rather narrow, you cannot well avoid giving some sort 
 of a greeting as you pass by. 
 
 So one evening as little Fadette was bringing home 
 her geese her Grasshopper at her heels, as usual 
 and Landry, who had been to the meadow after his 
 mares, was driving them quietly along toward La 
 Priche, they met in the little road which leads down 
 from the Cross of the Bossons to the Roulettes ford, 
 and which is so sunken between two embankments 
 that there was no escape. Landry colored, afraid 
 that he would be called upon to keep his promise, 
 and wishing to discourage Fadette, he jumped on one 
 of the mares the moment he caught sight of her, and
 
 FADETTE 73 
 
 kicked the animal's sides with his sabots to make her 
 trot. But as all the mares were hobbled, the one he 
 was riding could not go any faster. Landry, seeing 
 that Fadette was close at hand, did not dare to look 
 at her, and turned around, pretending to see if his 
 colts were following him. When he looked ahead 
 again, Fadette had already passed him, without say- 
 ing a word. He could not even tell whether she had 
 looked at him, or tried to give him a good-night smile. 
 He saw only Jeanet, the Grasshopper, who as impish 
 and hateful as ever picked up a stone to throw at 
 his mare's legs. Landry felt like giving him a cut 
 with his whip, but he dreaded having to stop and ex- 
 plain matters with the sister. So he pretended not 
 to see him and rode on without looking back. 
 
 The same thing happened whenever he met Fadette. 
 By degrees he plucked up courage to look her in the 
 face ; for as he grew older and wiser, he did not attach 
 so much importance to so trifling an affair. But when 
 he tried to catch her eye, to show her that he was 
 ready to listen to anything she might have to say, 
 he was surprised to see that the girl purposely turned 
 her head in the other direction, as if she were as 
 much afraid of him as he was of her. This discovery 
 increased his confidence, and, as he was disposed to 
 give every one his due, it occurred to him that he had 
 done very wrong never to have thanked her for the 
 pleasure she had given him, whether it was by chance 
 or owing to her superior knowledge. 
 
 He made up his mind to speak to her the first time
 
 74 FADETTE 
 
 he saw her, and when the opportunity occurred, he 
 advanced at least ten steps toward her, intending to 
 say how do you do, and have a little chat. 
 
 But as he approached, little Fadette was very much 
 on her dignity, and when she finally made up her mind 
 to speak to him, her manner was so disdainful that he 
 was quite taken aback, and did not dare say a word to 
 her. Landry did not speak to her again that year ; 
 for, from that day on, little Fadette, from some caprice 
 or other, took so much trouble to avoid him that when 
 she saw him coming, she would turn aside into some 
 field, or go a long distance out of her way, so that she 
 might not meet him. Landry thought she was angry 
 at his ingratitude, but he could not bear to make the 
 first advances. Little Fadette was not like other chil- 
 dren. She was not naturally ready to take offence ; 
 indeed, she was not enough so, for she loved to tease, 
 and her tongue was so sharp that she was very quick 
 at repartee, and always managed to have the last 
 word. She had never been known to sulk, and 
 people even accused her of being lacking in that 
 proper pride which a girl should have when she gets 
 to be fifteen, and begins to think herself of some con- 
 sequence. She was full of boyish pranks, and often 
 tried to tease Sylvinet ; she would bother him and try 
 to provoke him, and make him lose his temper, when 
 she caught him in a brown study, for he still indulged 
 in occasional day dreams. She always ran after him 
 part of the way when she met him, ridiculing him 
 for being a twin, and tormenting him by saying that
 
 FADETTE 75 
 
 Landry did not love him, and only laughed at his 
 woes. So poor Sylvinet, who had much more confi- 
 dence in her powers of witchcraft than Landry had, 
 was amazed that she had guessed his thoughts, and 
 hated her with all his heart. He despjsed her and her 
 family, and he avoided the hateful Cricket just as she 
 avoided Landry ; for, said he, sooner or later she will 
 follow her mother's example. The latter had been a 
 woman of bad character, and had finally left her hus- 
 band and gone off as a camp-follower. She had gone 
 to be a vivandiere soon after the Grasshopper was 
 born, and had never been heard of since. Her hus- 
 band had died of grief and shame, and so old Mother 
 Fadet was obliged to take charge of the two children, 
 who fared very badly, as much on account of her 
 stinginess as from her advanced age, which rendered 
 her unfit to look after them and see that they were 
 properly brought up. 
 
 For all these reasons, Landry, though he was not 
 so proud as Sylvinet, felt a disgust for little Fadette, 
 and, regretting that he had ever had anything to do 
 with her, was careful not to let anybody know of it. 
 He did not even tell his twin, not wishing him to 
 know how anxious he had been on his account. 
 Sylvinet, on the other hand, said nothing about little 
 Fadette's tormenting him, being ashamed to tell that 
 she had found out how jealous he was. 
 
 But time did not stand still. Weeks are like 
 months, and months like years with youngsters the 
 age of our twins ; so far, at least, as concerns the
 
 76 FADETTE 
 
 changes they work in mind and body. Landry soon 
 forgot his adventure, and, after worrying himself a 
 little about Fadette, gave no more thought to the 
 affair than if it had been a dream. 
 
 Landry had been at La Priche about ten months, 
 and St. John's Day the period when his engage- 
 ment with Father Caillaud would expire was close 
 at hand. That honest man was so pleased with him 
 that he had determined to raise his wages, sooner 
 than let him go. And Landry asked nothing better 
 than to remain near his family, and renew his engage- 
 ment with the La Priche folks, to whom he was much 
 attached. Beside that, he had taken a fancy to a 
 niece of Father Caillaud's, named Madelon, who was 
 a fine slip of a girl. She was a year older than he, 
 and still looked upon him as a child, but less and less 
 so every day. At the beginning of the year, she had 
 made fun of him because he was ashamed to kiss her 
 in their dances or games, but latterly, she had taken 
 to blushing instead of teasing him, and avoided being 
 alone with him in the stable or hayloft. Madelon 
 was pretty well off, and a marriage might very well 
 have been arranged between them, in the course of 
 time. Both families were much esteemed in that part 
 of the country. Finally, Father Caillaud, noticing 
 that these youngsters were fond of each other's soci- 
 ety, but yet dreaded to be left alone together, told 
 Father Barbeau that they would make a fine couple, 
 and that there would be no harm in allowing them 
 to become better acquainted.
 
 FADETTE 77 
 
 So a week before St. John's Day, it was agreed 
 that Landry should remain at La Priche, and that 
 Sylvinet should not leave home ; for he was a very 
 sensible young fellow now, and as Father Barbeau 
 had had intermittent fever, he found him very useful 
 about the farm. Sylvinet dreaded being sent far 
 away, and this dread had a good effect on him ; for he 
 tried more and more to overcome his excessive fond- 
 ness for Landry, or, at least, not to allow it to be so 
 evident. So peace and contentment had returned to 
 the Twinnery, though the twins did not see each 
 other oftener than once or twice a week. 
 
 The feast of St. John was a happy day for them ; 
 they all went to town to see the hiring out of ser- 
 vants for the city and country, and the festival which 
 followed, on the public square. Landry danced the 
 bourree more than once with Madelon, and, to please 
 him, Sylvinet tried to dance too. He did not make 
 out very well, but Madelon was very good to him, 
 and when she was dancing opposite him, she took his 
 hand to show him the step. So Sylvinet, only too 
 glad to be with his brother, promised to learn to 
 dance well, so as to share an enjoyment which he had 
 hitherto begrudged Landry. 
 
 He was not particularly jealous of Madeloji, for 
 Landry did not, as yet, pay her very devoted atten- 
 tion. Beside that, Madelon nattered Sylvinet and 
 encouraged him. She was quite at her ease with 
 him, and those who knew no better, would have sup- 
 posed that she preferred him to his brother. Landry
 
 78 FADETTE 
 
 might have found some occasion for jealousy, but it 
 was not in his nature to feel jealous of anybody, and 
 perhaps, in spite of his innocence, he had a slight 
 suspicion that Madelon only behaved thus to please 
 him, and to make opportunities of seeing him more 
 frequently. 
 
 So for about three months everything went on 
 smoothly, till the feast of St. Andoche, the patron 
 saint of La Cosse, which is about the last of Septem- 
 ber. This day which had always been a special 
 holiday for the twins, because there were games and 
 dancing under the walnut trees in the village this 
 year brought them new and unexpected troubles. 
 
 Father Caillaud, having given Landry permission 
 the night before to go and sleep at the Twinnery, so 
 that he might take part in the early morning festivi- 
 ties, Landry started off before supper, delighted with 
 the idea of taking his twin by surprise ; for he was 
 not expected till the next day. The days were be- 
 ginning to shorten, and it grew dark early. Landry 
 was afraid of nothing in broad daylight, but it would 
 not have been natural, at his age and in his part of the 
 country, if he had enjoyed being alone on the roads 
 after nightfall, especially in the autumn, which is the 
 season when witches and will-o'-the-wisps begin to 
 hold their revels, on account of the fogs which help 
 them to hide their naughty pranks and misdemeanors. 
 Landry, who was used to going about alone at all 
 hours, driving his oxen to and fro, was not more timid 
 that evening than any other, but he walked fast, and
 
 FADETTE 79 
 
 sang at the top of his voice ; for, as everybody knows, 
 a man's singing scares away evil-disposed people as 
 well as prowling beasts. 
 
 When he reached the Roulettes ford, so called 
 on account of the round pebbles which abound there, 
 he turned up the bottom of his trousers, for fear 
 that the water might be above his ankles, and was 
 careful not to walk straight ahead ; for the ford runs 
 obliquely, and there are some dangerous holes to the 
 right and left of it. Landry had so often crossed the 
 ford and was so familiar with it, that he could not 
 make a mistake. Besides, from where he was stand- 
 ing, he could see, through the trees, which were half 
 stripped of their leaves, the little light which came 
 from Mother Fadet's house, and by keeping his eyes 
 on that light, and walking straight towards it, there 
 was no danger of making a misstep. 
 
 It was so dark under the trees, however, that 
 Landry sounded the ford with his stick before step- 
 ping in. He was surprised to find that the water was 
 deeper than usual, though he could hear the noise 
 from the sluice gates, which had been open fully an 
 hour. However, as he could see the light in Fadette's 
 window, he ventured in, but, after a step or two, he 
 found himself in water up to his knees, and drew 
 back, thinking that he must have made a mistake. 
 He tried it a little higher up, and a little lower down, 
 but he found the water even deeper in both places. 
 There had been no rain, and the sluice gates were 
 still open, for he could hear the rushing of the water. 
 It was very strange.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 " I MUST have tried to cross at the wrong place," 
 thought Landry ; " for all of a sudden, I see Fadette's 
 candle on my right, and it should be on my left." 
 He went up the road as far as the Croix-aux-Lievres 
 (the Hare's Cross) and walked around it with his 
 eyes shut, so as to put himself straight, and, after tak- 
 ing a good look at the surrounding trees and bushes, 
 he struck the right road and returned to the river. 
 But though the ford seemed all right, he did not vent- 
 ure to go forward more than a step or two, for all at 
 once he saw just behind him the light from Fadette's 
 house, which should be directly in front. He re- 
 turned to the bank, and now the light seemed to be 
 in its usual place. He tried the ford again, cutting 
 across in another direction, and this time the water 
 came nearly up to his waist. Nevertheless, he kept 
 on, thinking that he must have stepped into a hole, 
 but that he would get out again if he walked straight 
 toward the light. 
 
 He was obliged to stop ; for the hole was getting 
 
 deeper and deeper, and the water was now up to his 
 
 shoulders. It felt very cold, and he paused a moment 
 
 to consider whether he should retrace his steps ; for 
 
 80
 
 FADETTE 81 
 
 the light seemed to have changed its position, and he 
 could even see it move, flit along, leap and skip from 
 one bank to the other, and finally he saw it reflected 
 in the water, where it hovered like a bird, poising it- 
 self on its wings, and making a faint sputtering noise 
 like a resinous torch. 
 
 By this time Landry was really very much fright- 
 ened, and he had heard it said that there is nothing 
 more dangerous and misleading than that very fire. 
 He had been told that it took delight in leading astray 
 those who looked at it, and would lure them into the 
 very deepest part of the water, laughing at them, after 
 a fashion of its own, and mocking at its victims in 
 their despair. 
 
 Landry shut his eyes, to avoid seeing it, and, turning 
 quickly around, he waded out of the hole at all risks, 
 and found his way back to the shore. Then he threw 
 himself down on the grass, and stared at the will-o'- 
 the-wisp, which continued its dance, still mocking at 
 him. It was indeed a weird, uncanny sight. Some- 
 times it darted about like a kingfisher, and sometimes 
 it vanished altogether. Again, it looked as big as a 
 bull's head, and then, in a twinkling, it was no larger 
 than a cat's eye. It came close to Landry, then 
 whirled about him so fast that it dazzled him, and 
 finally, seeing that he would not follow, it fluttered 
 back among the rushes, and lay there sulking, as if 
 planning some new insult. 
 
 Landry dared not stir, for he could not rid himself 
 of the will-o'-the-wisp by retracing his steps. Every-
 
 82 FADETTE 
 
 body knows how it persists in pursuing those who try 
 to run away from it, and keeps on crossing their path, 
 till they go mad, and tumble into some snare or other. 
 He sat there shivering with fear and cold, when he 
 heard, just behind him, a thin little voice, singing : 
 
 " Fay, fay, my little fay, 
 Take thy torch, and haste away, 
 Here's my cap, and here's my cloak, 
 And here's a mate for fairy folk." 
 
 And the next moment, little Fadette, who was gayly 
 preparing to cross the stream, apparently not the least 
 bit afraid or astonished at the sight of the Jack-o'-lan- 
 tern, stumbled over Landry, who was sitting on the 
 ground in the darkness, and drew back, swearing like 
 a boy, and that, too, not as if it were the first time. 
 
 " Don't you know me, Fanchon ? Don't be afraid. 
 I am not an enemy of yours." He said this because 
 he was almost as much afraid of her as he was of the 
 will-o'-the-wisp. He had heard her song, and knew 
 well enough that it was a spell to charm the will-o'- 
 the-wisp, which danced and spun around in front of 
 her, like a mad thing, as if in token of welcome. 
 
 "I know very well, my pretty twin," said little 
 Fadette, after a moment's reflection, " that you only 
 speak kindly to me because you are half dead of 
 fright, and your voice is as shaky as my grand- 
 mother's. So, faint heart, you are not so proud at 
 night as you are in the daytime, and I'll wager you 
 dare not cross the stream without me." 
 
 " As sure as I live," said Landry, " I have just come
 
 FADETTE 83 
 
 out of it, and I narrowly escaped drowning. Will 
 you venture in, Fadette? Do you think you can find 
 the ford? 1 ' 
 
 "Why not, I'd like to know? But I see what is 
 worrying you," answered little Fadette, laughing. 
 " Come, give me your hand, coward ! The will-o'-- 
 the-wisp is not so bad as you think, and it never 
 hurts those who are not afraid of it. I am used to 
 it, and we are old acquaintances." 
 
 Then, with more strength than Landry had given 
 her credit for possessing, she took him by the arm, 
 and pulled him toward the ford at a run, singing 
 as she went, 
 
 " I'll take my cape and haste away, 
 For every fairy has her fay." 
 
 Landry felt hardly more at ease in the society of 
 the little witch than in that of the will-o'-the-wisp. 
 As, however, he found the devil less alarming in the 
 form of a human being than in that of such a nicker- 
 ing, treacherous flame, he made no resistance, and was 
 soon quite reassured when he found that Fadette 
 was guiding him so well that he walked dry-footed 
 over the pebbles. But as they went rather rapidly, 
 they made a current of air for the will-o'-the-wisp ; 
 and they were followed up quite closely by this 
 meteor, as our schoolmaster calls it, and he seems to 
 know all about it, and says that we have no reason 
 to be afraid of it.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IT may be that Mother Fadet had some knowledge 
 on the subject too, and had taught her granddaughter 
 not to be afraid of these fires which are only seen at 
 night, or perhaps, having seen so many of them, for 
 they are very frequent in the neighborhood of the 
 Roulettes ford, and it was a wonder that Landry had 
 never before seen one near at hand, the little girl 
 had come to the conclusion that they did not originate 
 from an evil source, and would do her no harm. 
 Feeling Landry tremble from head to foot as the will- 
 o'-the-wisp approached them, she said : 
 
 "You silly boy, that fire won't burn, and if you 
 were nimble enough to catch it, you'd find that it 
 doesn't even leave a mark." 
 
 " So much the worse," thought Landry ; " I know 
 what kind of fire it is which won't burn. It isn't the 
 kind of fire that God makes, for God's fire is intended 
 to burn and give heat." 
 
 But he kept his thoughts to himself, and when he 
 stood on the bank, safe and sound, he had a great 
 mind to leave her there, and hurry off to the Twin- 
 nery. But he was not ungrateful at heart, and so did 
 not like to start off without a word of thanks. 
 84
 
 FADETTE 85 
 
 " This is the second time you have done me a ser- 
 vice, Fanchon Fadet," said he, " and I should be too 
 mean for anything, if I didn't tell you that I shall 
 never forget it as long as I live. I was sitting there 
 like a fool when you found me. The will-o'-the-wisp 
 had cast a spell over me, and I could not move. I 
 should never have crossed the river, or rather I should 
 never have got out of it." 
 
 "Perhaps you could have crossed with neither 
 trouble nor danger if you had not been so foolish," 
 answered Fadette. " I never would have believed that 
 a big boy like you, in his seventeenth year, and who 
 will soon have a beard on his chin, could be so easily 
 scared, and I am glad I saw you." 
 
 "And why are you glad, Fanchon Fadet?" 
 
 " Because I don't like you," said she disdainfully. 
 
 "And why don't you like me?" 
 
 " Because I have a very poor opinion of you ; you 
 and your twin and your father and mother, who are 
 proud because they are rich, and who think that you 
 are doing nothing but your duty when you do them a 
 service. They have taught you to be ungrateful, Lan- 
 dry, and that is the worst fault a man can have except 
 being a coward." 
 
 Landry was much humiliated by the little girl's re- 
 proaches, for he was quite aware that they were not 
 altogether undeserved ; and he said to her, " If I am 
 to blame, Fadette, it is nobody's fault but my own. 
 Neither my brother, my father, my mother, nor any 
 of my friends know of the help you gave me once
 
 86 FADETTE 
 
 before. But this time they shall know of it, and you 
 shall have any reward you please." 
 
 " Ah, how proud you are," answered little Fadette, 
 u because you think that you can get even with me by 
 giving me presents. You think that I am like my 
 grandmother, who lets people abuse and insult her as 
 much as they please, so long as they give her a little 
 money. I don't want any of your presents, let me 
 tell you, and I despise anything you could give me, be- 
 cause you have never had the decency to say a single 
 word of thanks or kindness to me since that time 
 last year when I helped you out of a great trouble." 
 
 " I am to blame, I acknowledge, Fadette," said 
 Landry, who could not help feeling astonished to hear 
 her, for the first time, talk so sensibly. " But it is 
 also a little your fault. You didn't need to use much 
 magic to find my brother when you had, no doubt, 
 just seen him, while I was talking to your grand- 
 mother. If you really had a kind heart, you who 
 accuse me of having none at all, instead of keeping 
 me waiting when I was so anxious, and instead of 
 giving me directions which might have misled me, 
 you would have told me at once ' Go to the meadow 
 and you will find him there on the bank of the river.' 
 That would have been easy enough for you to do, 
 instead of amusing yourself at my expense, that is 
 the reason I have not attached so much value to the 
 service you did me." 
 
 Little Fadette, who was usually quick at repartee, 
 stopped to think a moment. Then said she :
 
 FADETTE 87 
 
 " It is very plain that you have done your best to 
 banish gratitude from your heart, and to make your- 
 self believe that you owe me nothing because of the 
 reward which I made you promise me. But I tell 
 you again you have a bad heart, since it has not 
 told you that I have never asked you for anything, 
 and have not even reproached you for your ingrati- 
 tude." 
 
 " That's true, Fadette," said Landry, who was truth 
 itself ; " I have done wrong : I knew it and was 
 ashamed of it. I should have spoken to you. I did 
 intend to, but you looked at me so savagely that I 
 didn't "know how to go about it." 
 
 "If you had come and spoken a kind word to me 
 the day after that affair, you would not have found 
 me savage ; you would have seen at once that I did 
 not want to be paid, and we should have made 
 friends with each other. Instead of that, I have just 
 now a very poor opinion of you, and I ought to have 
 left you to fight it out with the will-o'-the-wisp as 
 well as you could. Good-night, Landry of the Twin- 
 nery ; go and dry your clothes ; go and tell your 
 parents, i If it had not been for that ragged little 
 wretch of a Cricket, I should have drunk my fill of 
 the river to-night, as sure as I am alive.' " And as 
 she spoke, little Fadette turned her back on him 
 and walked off toward her house, singing : 
 
 " Take your lesson then, and go, 
 My pretty twin, Landry Barbeau." 
 
 By this time Landry felt very repentant, not that
 
 88 FADETTE 
 
 he was disposed to be friends with a girl who seemed 
 to have more wit than kindliness, and whose rude 
 manners did not attract even those who found them 
 amusing, but he was a lad of good principles, and he 
 liked to have a clear conscience. He ran after her 
 and caught hold of her cape. 
 
 ''See here, Fanchon Fadet!" said he; "we must 
 settle this affair between us and be done with it. 
 You are angry with me, and I am not over well 
 pleased with myself. You must tell me what you 
 want, and I will bring it to you not later than to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " I never want to see you again," answered Fadette, 
 harshly. "No matter what you bring me, you may 
 depend upon it, I shall throw it in your face." 
 
 " That's a hard way to talk to a person who is try- 
 ing to make amends to you. If you don't want a 
 present, perhaps there is something I can do for you 
 to show you that I wish you no harm. Come, tell 
 me what I can do to satisfy you ! " 
 
 " Then you are not going to ask my pardon, and 
 try to make friends with me ? " said Fadette, stand- 
 ing still. 
 
 " Ask your pardon ? That's pretty hard," an- 
 swered Landry, who did not fancy the notion of 
 apologizing to a girl who was not in the habit of 
 receiving the consideration to which her age en- 
 titled her, and who did not always behave herself 
 with the greatest propriety. " As for your friendship, 
 Fadette, you have such a queer disposition that I
 
 FADETTE 89 
 
 shouldn't trust you very far. So ask for something 
 which I can give you outright, and shall not be 
 obliged to take back again." 
 
 "Well," said Fadette, in a clear, cold voice, "it 
 shall be as you wish, Landry, the twin. I have 
 offered you my forgiveness and you won't accept it. 
 Now I claim the promise you made me, which was, 
 to obey my orders whenever I should call upon you. 
 That will be to-morrow, the feast of St. Andoche, and 
 this is what I want you to do. You must dance the 
 bourre"e with me three times after Mass, twice after 
 Vespers, and twice more after the Angelus : that 
 makes seven times. And all day long, from the time 
 you get up till you go to bed, you shall not dance the 
 bourrde with anybody else girl or married woman. 
 If you don't do it, I shall know that you have 
 three very ugly traits in your disposition : you are a 
 coward, you are ungrateful, and you do not keep your 
 word. Good-night ; I'll wait for you at the church 
 to-morrow, to open the dance." 
 
 And little Fadette, whom Landry had followed to 
 her house, drew the bolt and went in so quickly that 
 the door was shut and bolted before the twin had a 
 chance to say a word in reply.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AT first Landry thought Fadette's idea so amus- 
 ing that he was more inclined to laugh than to be 
 annoyed. 
 
 " There is a girl," said he to himself, " who is more 
 foolish than malicious, and more disinterested than 
 one would suppose ; for it won't ruin my family to 
 give her her reward." But, on second thoughts, the 
 payment of his debt seemed more difficult than he 
 had been inclined to think it at first. Little Fadette 
 danced very well ; he had seen her skipping about 
 the fields and road with the shepherd lads, and she 
 flew about like a little demon, so quickly that her 
 partner could hardly keep up with her. But she was 
 so far from pretty and so badly dressed, even on 
 Sundays, that no boy of Landry's age would ever have 
 thought of asking her to dance, especially in public. 
 It was as much as could be expected if the swine- 
 herds and the boys who had not yet made their first 
 communion should condescend to ask her, and the 
 country belles did not like to have her dance in the 
 same set with them. So Landry felt very much mor- 
 tified at having engaged himself to such a partner, 
 and when he recollected that he had asked pretty 
 90
 
 FADETTE 91 
 
 Madelon to dance at least three bounces with him, 
 he wondered how she would take the affront which 
 he should be obliged to offer her, by failing to claim 
 the dances. 
 
 As he was cold and hungry, and was still afraid 
 that the will-o'-the-wisp might follow him, he hurried 
 along, not thinking much about anything, and never 
 once looking behind him. As soon as he got home, 
 he dried his clothes and told his parents that he could 
 not find the ford, on account of the darkness, and the 
 trouble he had had in getting across the river. But 
 he was ashamed to tell how frightened he had been, 
 and he said nothing about little Fadette or the will- 
 o'-the-wisp. He went to bed, saying to himself that 
 to-morrow would be soon enough to bother himself 
 about the consequences of this unlucky adventure. 
 But, try as he would, he slept very badly. He 
 dreamed more than fifty times that he saw little 
 Fadette mounted astride of the goblin, which looked 
 like a big red rooster, and which held in one claw 
 its horn lantern with a candle in it, which lighted up 
 the whole rush field. And then little Fadette was 
 changed into a cricket as big as a goat, and shouted 
 out to him, in a voice like a cricket, a song which he 
 could not understand, but of which he caught now 
 and then some words which rhymed, such as, " fay, 
 way, cloak, folk," etc. His head was splitting with 
 the noise, and the \vill-o'-the-wisp ? s light was so vivid, 
 and flickered so much, that when he woke up his 
 eyes were still dazzled and saw those little black, red,
 
 92 FADETTE 
 
 and blue balls which float before them when we have 
 been looking too steadily at the sun or moon. 
 
 Landry was so worn out with his bad night, that 
 he slept all through Mass, and did not hear one 
 word of the Curd's sermon, which was a eulogy on 
 the virtues and general character of good St. Andoche. 
 On coming out of church, Landry was so drowsy that 
 he forgot all about Fadette. But there she stood, in 
 front of the porch, next to pretty Madelon, who had 
 stationed herself there, quite confident that the first 
 invitation would be for her. But when he approached 
 to speak to her, he could not help seeing the Cricket, 
 who stepped forward and said in a loud voice and 
 with unparalleled impudence, " See here, Landry, 
 you asked me last night to give you the first dance, 
 and I depend on you to see that we don't miss it! " 
 
 Landry turned as red as fire, and seeing that Made- 
 Ion colored too, with astonishment and displeasure at 
 such an unheard-of occurrence, he mustered up cour- 
 age to say to Fadette, " I may have promised to give 
 you a dance, Cricket, but I had asked some one else 
 before you, and your turn will come after I have kept 
 my previous engagement." 
 
 " No, indeed," said Fadette, boldly. u Your mem- 
 ory fails you, Landry. You haven't a previous en- 
 gagement with anybody, for I claim a promise you 
 made me last year, and which you renewed only last 
 evening. If Madelon wants to dance with you to- 
 day, here is your twin, who is so like you that he can 
 take your place. One is as good as the other."
 
 FADETTE 93 
 
 "The Cricket is right," said Madelon, haughtily, 
 taking Sylvinet's hand. " Since you have an engage- 
 ment of such long standing, you must keep it, Landry, 
 I would just as soon dance with your brother." 
 
 " Yes, yes, it is all the same thing," said Sylvinet, 
 innocently. "We can all four dance together." 
 
 Landry had to let it pass, for he did not want to 
 attract people's attention, and the Cricket began to 
 skip about with such pride and agility that no bourre'e 
 was ever danced with more spirit and in better time. 
 If she had been pretty and attractive, it would have 
 been a pleasure to look at her ; for she danced wonder- 
 fully well, and there was not a pretty girl present who 
 would not have been glad to have her ease and light- 
 ness. But the poor Cricket was so badly dressed that 
 she looked ten times uglier than usual. Landry dared 
 not look at Madelon, for he felt deeply mortified at 
 being obliged to treat her as he had done; so he 
 watched his partner, and thought her even uglier than 
 in her every-day rags. She had tried to deck herself 
 out in holiday attire and the result was absurd. 
 
 She wore a cap which had grown yellow with lying 
 away, and instead of being small and well caught-up 
 behind, as the country girls wear them nowadays, it 
 had two great ears on either side of her head, and, at 
 the back, the cape falling down on her neck made 
 her look like her grandmother, and gave her a head 
 as big as a bushel basket, on her slender, little stick 
 of a neck. Her coarse woollen petticoat was two 
 hands-breadths too short, and as she had grown a
 
 9+ FADETTE 
 
 good deal the past year, her thin, sunburnt arms pro- 
 truded from her sleeves like spider's legs. She wore 
 a crimson apron, of which she was very proud. It 
 had been her mother's, and she had not thought to 
 take off the bib, though they had not been worn by 
 young girls these ten years or more. 
 
 She was not very coquettish, poor girl ; indeed, she 
 was not enough so, and had grown up like a boy, 
 never thinking of her appearance, and caring for 
 nothing but fun and play. She looked like an old 
 woman in her Sunday clothes, and was laughed at 
 for her shabby get-up, which was the result of the 
 grandmother's stinginess and the granddaughter's 
 lack of taste, and not of poverty.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SYLVINET thought it odd that his twin should have 
 taken such a fancy to Fadette, for whom his own 
 dislike was even greater than Landry's had been. 
 Landry could not explain matters, and felt as if he 
 should sink through the ground. Madelon was very 
 indignant, and in spite of the nimble time which 
 Fadette made them keep, their faces were as gloomy 
 as if they had been at a funeral. At the end of the 
 first dance, Landry slipped away to try to hide him- 
 self in his orchard. But in a moment, little Fadette, 
 escorted by the Grasshopper, who was more quarrel- 
 some and noisy than ever, because he had a peacock's 
 feather and a new gilt tassel on his cap, came to 
 hunt him up, followed by a troop of impish little girls 
 younger than herself; for girls of her own age 
 would not have anything to do with her. When 
 Landry saw her coming with all this crew, who were 
 to be her witnesses in case of a refusal to go with 
 her, he gave in at once, and led her out under the 
 walnut trees, looking about for a corner where they 
 could dance without attracting so much attention. 
 
 Fortunately for him, Madelon and Sylvinet had 
 gone off somewhere else, and there were none of his 
 95
 
 96 FADETTE 
 
 neighbors about ; so he took advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity to dance his third dance with Fadette. There 
 were none but strangers near, who paid very little 
 attention to them. 
 
 As soon as he was through dancing, he ran to find 
 Madelon to invite her to go out under the trees and 
 eat some frumenty with him. But she had been 
 dancing with other young men, who had made her 
 promise to allow them to treat her, and she refused, 
 rather haughtily. Then noticing that he stood in a 
 corner, with his eyes full of tears, for pride and 
 anger had made her prettier than ever, and it seemed 
 to him as if everybody must notice it, she ate very 
 fast, rose from the table, and said aloud : 
 
 "There goes Vespers. Whom am I going to dance 
 with afterward ? " She turned toward Landry, expect- 
 ing him to say at once, "With me! " But before he 
 could open his mouth, other young men presented 
 themselves, and Madelon, not deigning to vouch- 
 safe him one look of pity or reproach, went off to 
 Vespers with her new admirers. 
 
 When Vespers was over, Madelon started off with 
 Pierre Aubardeau, followed by Jean Aladenise and 
 Etienne Alaphilippe, and danced with all three, one 
 after the other ; for she was too pretty a girl to lack 
 partners, especially as she had a nice little fortune of 
 her own. 
 
 Landry stood looking after her out of the corners 
 of his eyes, and little Fadette had remained in 
 church after the others were gone, saying some long
 
 FADETTE 97 
 
 prayers. She did this every Sunday, some said be- 
 cause she was so pious, and others, because she 
 wished to disguise her dealings with the devil. 
 
 Landry was very sorry to see that Madelon did not 
 seem at all concerned about him, that her face was 
 rosy with enjoyment, and that she no longer appeared 
 to feel the affront which he had been compelled to 
 offer her. He had not thought of it before, but it 
 now occurred to him that she must be something of 
 a coquette, and that, at any rate, she could not care 
 much for him, since she managed to enjoy herself 
 so well without him. It is true that appearances 
 were against him ; but she had seen how distressed he 
 was when they were out under the walnut trees, and 
 she might have known that there must be something 
 behind, which he wanted an opportunity to explain to 
 her. But she never gave him a thought, and was as 
 frisky as a young kid, while his own heart was burst- 
 ing with grief. 
 
 After she had finished dancing with her three part- 
 ners, Landry went up to her, wishing to have a few 
 words with her in private, so that he might make 
 some attempt to clear himself. He did not know how 
 he should manage to draw her aside, for he was 
 still too young to be at his ease with women, and 
 as he could not think of the proper thing to say, he 
 took her hand to lead her apart, but she said to him, 
 half petulant and half relenting : 
 
 " Well, Landry, have you come to ask me to dance 
 at last?" 
 
 H
 
 98 FADETTE 
 
 " Not to dance," said he, for he did not know how 
 to act a part, and had no intention of breaking his 
 word ; " but to tell you something which you cannot 
 refuse to hear." 
 
 " Oh, if you have a secret to tell me, Landry, you must 
 keep it till another time," answered Madelon, draw- 
 ing away her hand. "To-day is a day for dancing 
 and merrymaking. I am not tired out yet, and if the 
 Cricket has danced you down, go home, and go to 
 bed if you want to, 1 am going to stay." 
 
 Thereupon she accepted the invitation of Germain 
 Audoux, who came up to ask her to dance. And as 
 she turned her back, Landry heard Germain Audoux 
 say to her, speaking of him : 
 
 " That boy seems to think that this dance belongs 
 to him." 
 
 " Maybe he does," said Madelon, tossing her head ; 
 "but I shan't give it to any such fellow as he is." 
 
 Landry was much shocked at this expression, and 
 lingered near to watch Madelon's behavior, which, 
 while not absolutely rude, was so proud and haughty 
 that it made him angry. And when she came near 
 him again, and he looked at her rather disdainfully, 
 she said to him, out of bravado : 
 
 "Well, Landry, so you can't find a partner to-day? 
 As sure as I live, you will be obliged to go back to 
 the Cricket." 
 
 " I'll go back to her gladly enough," answered 
 Landry ; " for if she isn't the prettiest girl here, she 
 is the best dancer."
 
 FADETTE 99 
 
 Then off he went to hunt through the church for 
 little Fadette, and brought her back to the dance, 
 right opposite to Madelon, and danced two bourrdes 
 with her without stopping. It was worth something 
 to see how proud and happy the Cricket was. She 
 did not attempt to conceal her delight ; snapped her 
 merry black eyes, and tossed her head with its great 
 cap, like a chicken with a topknot. 
 
 But, unfortunately, her triumph gave umbrage to five 
 or six little ragamuffins who had been in the habit 
 of dancing with her. They had never looked down 
 on her, but had always admired her dancing, and now 
 when they found that they couldn't get near her, they 
 fell to criticising her, calling her proud, and whisper- 
 ing so that she could hear them : 
 
 "Just look at the Cricket! She thinks she can 
 charm Landry Barbeau!" Cricket, Grasshopper, 
 singed cat, little runt, will-o'-the-wisp, and many 
 other nicknames popular among country people.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AND then when little Fadette was dancing near 
 them, they would pull her sleeve or put out a foot to 
 trip her up, and there were some of them the 
 youngest ones, of course, and the most unmannerly 
 who struck at the ears of her cap, and tilted it first 
 to one side and then to the other, shouting, " Three 
 cheers for the big helmet! Mother Fadet's big 
 helmet ! " 
 
 The poor Cricket struck out at them five or six 
 times, aiming her blows to the right and left, but 
 that only served to draw attention to herself, and the 
 neighbors began to say : 
 
 " Just look at our Cricket ! What luck she's hav- 
 ing to-day ! Landry Barbeau dances with her all the 
 time. She dances well, to be sure, but she is put- 
 ting on fine lady airs and strutting about like a 
 magpie." 
 
 Some of them said to Landry : 
 
 " Poor Landry ! Has she bewitched you so that 
 you can't look at anybody else? Or maybe she is 
 going to teach you the black art, and we'll soon see 
 you driving the wolves to pasture." 
 
 Landry was mortified, but Sylvinet, who admired 
 his brother beyond anything in the world, was still 
 
 100
 
 FADETTE 101 
 
 more ashamed, when he saw him make a laughing- 
 stock of himself before so many people, many of 
 them strangers, who now began to take an interest in 
 the affair, asking questions and saying : 
 
 " That's a fine-looking boy, but it is queer that he 
 should take up with the ugliest girl here." 
 
 Madelon came up to listen triumphantly to these 
 jeers, and took part in them with great relish. She 
 said: 
 
 " What can you expect ? Landry is nothing but a 
 child, and boys of his age don't care whether a girl 
 has a goat's head or a human face, as long as they 
 can get her to talk to them." 
 
 Sylvinet took Landry by the arm, and said to him 
 in a low voice : 
 
 "Come, brother, let's go home! or we'll have to 
 take some notice of them, for they are making fun of 
 you, and it reflects on you when they insult little 
 Fadette. I can't imagine what put it into your head 
 to dance with her five or six times running. It 
 seems as if you were trying to make yourself ridicu- 
 lous. Do stop amusing yourself after such a fashion, 
 I beg of you. It's all right for her to expose herself 
 to being laughed at by the crowd if she chooses to 
 do it ; she likes that sort of thing : it just suits her. 
 But it doesn't suit us. Let's go. We'll come back 
 after the Angelus, and you can dance with Madelon, 
 who is a very well behaved girl. I've always told 
 you that you were too fond of dancing, and that 
 your love for it will make a fool of you yet."
 
 102 FADETTE 
 
 Landry followed him a step or two, but he turned 
 back when he heard a great clatter of voices, and 
 saw that Madelon and the other girls had given 
 little Fadette over to the rough horse-play of their 
 sweethearts, and that the little vagabonds encour- 
 aged by the laughter which greeted their efforts 
 had just knocked off her cap. Her long black hair 
 streamed down her back and she was defending her- 
 self frantically, in a perfect frenzy of indignation. 
 For once in her lifetime she had done nothing to 
 provoke such ill-treatment. She was crying with 
 rage, and could not recover her cap, which a naughty 
 little rascal had carried off on the end of a stick. 
 
 Landry was disgusted with the whole affair and 
 angry at seeing her so unjustly treated he rescued 
 the cap, and gave the boy a sound thrashing with 
 the stick. Then he turned his attention to the 
 others, who scattered in every direction as soon as 
 they saw him coming, and, taking the poor Cricket by 
 the hand, he gave her back her cap. 
 
 Landry's energetic proceedings, and the terror of 
 the little ragamuffins, greatly amused the spectators. 
 They applauded Landry, but as he was not in Made- 
 Ion's good graces, some of the boys of his own age, 
 and even older, were rather disposed to laugh at his 
 expense. 
 
 Landry no longer felt ashamed. He was con- 
 scious of his own strength and courage, and a certain 
 feeling of manliness assured him that he was doing 
 his duty in defending any woman pretty or ugly,
 
 "Quick, put on your hat, Fadette, and let's dance.
 
 FADETTE 103 
 
 big or little whom he had taken for a partner in 
 the presence of his friends and neighbors. He 
 noticed that Madelon's party was inclined to make 
 fun of him, so he walked straight up to the Aladenises 
 and the Alaphilippes, and said to them : 
 
 " Well, fellows, what have you got to say to me ? 
 If I see fit to pay attention to that girl, what business 
 is it of yours? If you don't like it, why don't you 
 speak out? Can't you see me standing here before 
 you? Somebody said I was only a child, but there 
 isn't a man here, or even a big boy, who would dare 
 say it to my face. Come, speak up ! We'll see if 
 anybody is going to interfere with the girl wlio has 
 been dancing with a child like me ! " 
 
 Sylvinet stood by his brother's side, and though he 
 had opposed getting into this quarrel, he was ready 
 to back him up. There were four or five of the 
 young men who were a head taller than the twins, 
 but when they saw them so determined, and were 
 themselves of the opinion that it was not worth 
 while to fight about so small a matter, they did not 
 say a word, but exchanged glances as if asking who 
 wanted to have it out with Landry. No one came 
 forward, and Landry, who still held Fadette's hand, 
 said to her: 
 
 " Quick, put on your cap, Fadette, and let's dance, 
 and we'll see if anybody will try to take it off." 
 
 " No," said little Fadette, drying her tears ; " I have 
 danced enough for to-day, and I will not hold you to 
 the rest."
 
 1(H FADETTE 
 
 " No, no ; we must dance again," said Landry, who 
 was all afire with pride and courage. " Nobody 
 shall say that you can't dance with me without be- 
 ing insulted." 
 
 So he made her dance again, and nobody said a 
 word to him, or even looked askance. Madelon and 
 her admirers had taken themselves off to dance some- 
 where else. After the bounce was over, little Fadette 
 said to Landry in a low tone : 
 
 " Now that's enough, Landry. I am satisfied with 
 you, and I let you off your promise. I am going 
 home. Dance with whom you please this evening." 
 
 And off she ran after her brother, who had been 
 fighting with the other children, and was gone before 
 Landry saw which way she took.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 LANDRY went home to supper with his brother, and 
 as Sylvinet was very much disturbed over the morn- 
 ing's occurrences, he told him how he had met the 
 will-o'-the-wisp the night before, and how little Fa- 
 dette had helped him out of his difficulty, either by 
 her courage or by some little piece of witchcraft, and 
 had asked, as her reward, that he should dance with 
 her seven times at the feast of St. Andoche. 
 
 He did not tell him the rest, not wishing him to 
 know how he had feared to find him drowned in the 
 river the year before. In this he showed his good 
 sense ; for the bad notions children take into their 
 heads are very apt to return, if people take notice of 
 them, or talk to them on the subject. Sylvinet 
 thought that his brother had done right to keep his 
 word, and told him that he respected him all the 
 more on account of the annoyance it had cost him. 
 But while realizing the danger Landry had been in, 
 he did not feel grateful to little Fadette. He disliked 
 her so much that he would not believe that her pres- 
 ence there was accidental, nor that her assistance had 
 been given from kindly motives. 
 
 " She must have conjured up the will-o'-the-wisp to 
 confuse you and get you drowned. But God would 
 105
 
 106 FADETTE 
 
 not permit it, because you are not, and have never 
 been, in a state of mortal sin. Then that wicked 
 Cricket, taking advantage of your gratitude and kind- 
 ness of heart, got you to make her a promise which 
 she knew would be very annoying and injurious to 
 you. She is terribly malicious, that girl. All witches 
 love to do all the mischief they can, and there is no 
 such thing as a good witch. She knew well enough 
 that she would get you into trouble with Madelon and 
 all the most respectable of your acquaintances. She 
 tried to get you into a fight, too. And if the good 
 Lord had not protected you against her for the second 
 time, you might have got into some very serious dis- 
 pute and have been hurt." 
 
 Landry, who had a habit of seeing everything 
 through his brother's eyes, thought that he was 
 probably right, and did not try to defend Fadette. 
 They talked about the will-o'-the-wisp, which Sylvi- 
 net had never seen, and which he was very curious 
 to hear about, though he had not the least desire to 
 see it. But they did not dare speak of it to their 
 mother, for she was alarmed at the very thought of 
 it ; nor to their father, because he laughed at it, and 
 had seen it more than twenty times, without paying 
 any attention to it. The dancing was kept up till 
 very late, but Landry, who was very low-spirited on 
 account of his falling out with Madelon, would not 
 take advantage of the freedom which Fadette had 
 allowed him, and went off with his brother to bring 
 the cattle home from pasture. And as he was half-
 
 FADETTE 107 
 
 way back to La Priche, and had a headache, he bade 
 his brother good-night at the end of the rush field. 
 Sylvinet would not let him cross the Roulettes ford, 
 for fear that the will-o'-the-wisp or the Cricket might 
 play him some ill turn. He made him promise to 
 take the longest way, and to cross the foot-bridge 
 by the big mill. Landry did as his brother told 
 him, and instead of crossing the rush field, he took 
 the road which runs at the foot of Chaumois Hill. 
 
 He did not feel at all timid, for the sounds of merry- 
 making were still in the air. He could catch the 
 faint, distant notes of the bagpipes, and the shouts of 
 the dancers at the feast of St. Andoche, and he well 
 knew that evil spirits do not play their pranks till 
 everybody in the neighborhood is asleep. When he 
 reached the foot of the hill, he heard somebody sob- 
 bing and crying beside the road, and thought at 
 first that it was a curlew. But as he drew near, it 
 sounded like a human voice, and as his heart never 
 failed him when he had to do with a fellow-being, 
 especially if in need of assistance, he leaped down 
 into the hollow beside the road, without a moment's 
 hesitation. But the sobs ceased as he approached. 
 
 "Who is crying here?" asked he, in a loud voice. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Is anybody ill ? " and as there was still no reply, 
 he was about to go away, when he thought he would 
 take a look among the stones and brambles which 
 obstructed the place, and he soon saw by the light of 
 the moon, which was just rising, some one lying on
 
 108 FADETTE 
 
 the ground, at full length, face downward and as 
 motionless as a dead body. He could not tell 
 whether the person was really dead, or whether he 
 had thrown himself down there in great distress, and 
 would not stir for fear of being seen. 
 
 Landry had never seen or touched a corpse, and 
 was quite overcome at the notion that this might be 
 one ; but he controlled his fears because he knew that 
 it was his duty to help his neighbor, and walked reso- 
 lutely up to take the hand of the prostrate figure, 
 which half rose as soon as it became evident that 
 disguise was no longer possible, and Landry recog- 
 nized little Fadette.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AT first Landry was annoyed to find little Fadette 
 again in his way, but as she appeared to be in trouble, 
 he felt sorry for her. This is the conversation which 
 ensued between them. 
 
 "What, Cricket! Was that you crying like that? 
 Has anybody hurt you, or run after you, that you 
 have hidden yourself here to cry ? " 
 
 " No, Landry ; nobody has bothered me since you 
 defended me so bravely, and besides that, I am not 
 afraid of anybody. I hid myself to cry, that's all ; for 
 there's nothing so silly as to let other people see you 
 when you are in trouble. 1 ' 
 
 " But why are you in such great trouble ? Is it be- 
 cause they were so rude to you to-day? It was partly 
 your own fault ; but you must cheer up, and never 
 expose yourself to such treatment again." 
 
 "Why do you say it was my fault, Landry? Was 
 it an insult for me to want to dance with you, and 
 am I the only girl who has no right to enjoy herself 
 as other girls do ? " 
 
 " It isn't that, Fadette ; I have no fault to find with 
 you for wanting to dance with me. I did as you 
 wished, and treated you very well. Your wrong- 
 109
 
 110 FADETTE 
 
 doing dates farther back than yesterday, and you 
 have not hurt me but yourself, as you ought to know." 
 
 "Well, Landry, as true as I love God, I don't 
 know what I have done. I have never given myself 
 a thought, and if I reproach myself for anything, it 
 is that I have, unintentionally, caused you so much 
 annoyance." 
 
 " Don't say that, Fadette ; I have no complaint to 
 make. Let's talk about yourself, and since you don't 
 seem to be conscious of your faults, will you let me 
 tell them to you in all good faith and kindliness ? " 
 
 " Yes, Landry, I will ; and I shall consider it the 
 best reward or the worst punishment you could give 
 me for the good or evil I have done you." 
 
 " Well, Fanchon Fadet, since you talk so sensibly, 
 and seem, for the first time in your life, to be gentle 
 and tractable, I will tell you why you are not treated 
 with the respect to which a girl of sixteen is entitled. 
 It is because your appearance and manners are more 
 like a boy's than a girl's. It is because you do not 
 pay any attention to your looks. In the first place, 
 you are not neat and clean, and your language is not 
 what it should be. You know the children have a far 
 worse name for you than Cricket. They often call 
 you tomboy. Now, do you think it is nice to look 
 more like a boy than a girl, when you are sixteen 
 years old? You climb trees like a regular squirrel, 
 and when you jump on a mare, without saddle or 
 bridle, you go off at a gallop, as if the devil were 
 after you. It is all right to be strong and active,
 
 FADETTE 111 
 
 and not to be afraid of anything, and it is a natu- 
 ral advantage for a man. But for a woman, there 
 is such a thing as going too far, and you act as if you 
 wanted to attract attention. So people notice you, 
 make fun of you, and shout after you as if you were a 
 wolf. You have a sharp tongue, and you give them 
 answers which are very amusing to those to whom 
 they are not addressed. It is a good thing to be 
 cleverer than other people, but if you show it too 
 plainly, you are sure to make enemies. You are very 
 inquisitive, and when you find out other people's 
 secrets, you cast them in their faces regardless of 
 their feelings, if ever they happen to offend you. 
 This makes them fear you, and people always hate 
 those whom they fear. They give you back worse 
 than they get. And lastly, whether you are a witch 
 or not, and I do think that you know more than 
 you ought about such things, though I hope you have 
 no dealings with the evil one, you try to make peo- 
 ple believe that you are one, so as to frighten those 
 who offend you. All this gives you a bad name. 
 Those are your faults, Fanchon Fadet, and it is be- 
 cause of those faults that nobody likes you. 
 
 "Just think it over and you will see that if you 
 would try and behave a little more like other people, 
 those things in which you excel would be better 
 appreciated." 
 
 " Thank you, Landry," answered little Fadette, very 
 gravely, after listening attentively to his lecture. 
 " You have said almost the same things to me which
 
 112 FADETTE 
 
 other people tell me, but you have done it kindly and 
 considerately, which is more than the others do. But 
 now, will you listen to what I have to say, and sit 
 down beside me for a few minutes?" 
 
 "It is not a very pleasant place," said Landry, who 
 was not anxious to stay there with her, and who could 
 not help thinking of the evil spells which she was said 
 to cast over those who were not on their guard. 
 
 " You think it is not a pleasant place, because you 
 rich people are hard to please. You must have soft 
 grass to sit on out of doors, and you can choose the 
 prettiest and shadiest places in your meadows and 
 gardens. But those who have nothing, do not ask 
 so much of our good Lord, and are glad to lay their 
 heads on the first stone they come across. Thorns 
 don't hurt their feet, and everything seems lovely to 
 them in heaven or earth, just wherever they may 
 happen to be. No place is ugly, Landry, to those 
 who know how good everything is which God has 
 made. Without being a witch, I know the use of the 
 least little weed which we tread under foot ; and as I 
 know what they are good for, I examine them, and 
 don't despise either their odor or their looks. Now 
 I tell you this, Landry, so that I may draw your at- 
 tention to something else, which concerns human 
 creatures' souls, as well as to the garden flowers and 
 roadside weeds. What I mean to say is that we are 
 too apt to despise what seems to us neither good 
 nor beautiful, and by that means we lose a great deal 
 that is useful and salutary."
 
 FADETTE 113 
 
 " I don't understand exactly what you are talking 
 about," said Landry, seating himself beside her ; and 
 for a moment they were silent, for Fadette's mind was 
 busy with ideas beyond Landry's comprehension, and 
 as for him, though his head felt rather confused, he 
 could not help listening with pleasure to the girl, for 
 never had he heard a voice so soft, or words so well 
 chosen as Fadette's at that moment. 
 
 " Listen, Landry," said she ; " I am more to be pitied 
 than blamed, and if I have injured myself, at least I 
 have never done any serious harm to anybody else, 
 and if people were fair and reasonable in their judg- 
 ments, they would pay greater heed to my good heart 
 than to my ugly face and my shabby clothes. Just 
 think a minute or let me tell you if you do not 
 already know what my life has been ever since I 
 came into the world! I will say nothing against my 
 poor mother, whom everybody blames and abuses, 
 though she is not here to defend herself, and though I 
 can't do it myself, for I don't know just what it was that 
 she did, nor what drove her to it. Well, the world is 
 so wicked that my mother had hardly abandoned me, 
 and I had not yet done crying for her, before the 
 other children, whenever they got the least little bit 
 angry with me, a quarrel over a game, or any trifle, 
 which they would never have noticed in anybody else, 
 would blame me for my mother's sins, and try to 
 make me ashamed of her. Perhaps, in my place, a 
 sensible girl would, as you say, have kept silent, not 
 thinking it prudent to defend her mother, but would
 
 114 FADETTE 
 
 have let them abuse her to save herself. But, you 
 see, I couldn't do that. It was of no use to try. My 
 mother was my mother, and whatever she may be, 
 whether I am ever to see her again or not, I shall al- 
 ways love her with all my heart. So when they call 
 me the child of a camp-follower or a vivandiere, I fly 
 into a rage, not on my own account, for I know well 
 enough that it cannot hurt me, as it is not my fault, 
 but for the sake of that poor, dear woman whom 
 it is my duty to defend. And as I do not know how 
 to defend her, I avenge her by telling other people 
 the truths which they deserve to hear, and by show- 
 ing them that they are no better than the woman at 
 whom they cast a stone. So they call me inquisitive 
 and impertinent because I find out their secrets, and 
 let them be known. It is true that the good Lord 
 made me inquisitive, if it is what you call inquisitive 
 to want to know all sorts of hidden things. But if 
 they had treated me decently, I should not have been 
 driven to gratify my curiosity at my neighbors' ex- 
 pense. I should have contented myself with learning 
 those secrets which I get from my grandmother, 
 about curing human ailments, and all about flowers, 
 herbs, stones, insects, all the secrets of nature ; 
 there would have been enough of them to occupy and 
 amuse me. I am so fond of roaming about and ex- 
 amining into things. I should not have minded be- 
 ing alone, for I should never have been lonely ; my 
 greatest pleasure is to haunt unfrequented places and 
 sit there and dream about fifty things which I never
 
 FADETTE 115 
 
 hear talked about by people who think themselves 
 very wise and well informed. If I have meddled in 
 my neighbors' affairs, it was only because I wanted 
 to be of service to them, with the little bits of knowl- 
 edge which I have acquired and by which my grand- 
 mother often profits, without saying anything about 
 it. Well, instead of being thanked kindly by all the 
 children of my own age whose wounds and illnesses 
 I had healed, and to whom I had taught my remedies 
 without asking for any reward, I was accused of be- 
 ing a witch, and those who were glad enough to come 
 and ask me for anything "when they needed me, after- 
 wards seized the first opportunity to be rude to me. 
 
 "This made me furious, and I could easily have 
 revenged myself on them ; for if I know things that 
 are beneficial, I also know many which are injurious. 
 However, I never made any use of them ; I don't know 
 what it is to bear malice, and if I revenge myself in 
 words, it is because it is a relief to say just whatever 
 is on the end of my tongue, and then I never give it 
 another thought and forgive and forget as God has 
 commanded. As for not taking care either of my 
 person or my manners, that ought to show you that 
 I am not so silly as to consider myself pretty, when I 
 can see that I am so ugly that nobody can bear to 
 look at me. I have heard it often enough to know 
 it, and when I see how harsh and contemptuous 
 people are to those who have not had their full share 
 of the good gifts of our dear Lord, I take pleasure in 
 shocking them, consoling myself with the thought
 
 116 FADETTE 
 
 that my face is not repulsive to the good Lord or to 
 my guardian angel, who would no more reproach me 
 for having it than I would reproach them for giving 
 it. I am not one of those who say, ' There is a cater- 
 pillar! ugly creature! ah, how hideous it is! let's 
 kill it!' I would not kill the meanest creature which 
 God has made, and if a caterpillar falls into the water, 
 I hold out a leaf for it to crawl upon. For that rea- 
 son they say that I like all sorts of noxious creatures, 
 and that I am a witch, because I do not like to hurt a 
 frog, to tear the legs off a wasp, and nail a live bat to 
 a tree. ' Poor thing,' I say, ' if nothing ugly had a 
 right to live, I should have to die as well as you.' "
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SOMEHOW or other Landry was touched when lit- 
 tle Fadette spoke so humbly and in such a matter-of- 
 course way of her ugliness, and, recalling her face, 
 of which he could catch only a glimpse on account 
 of the darkness, he said to her, without intending to 
 flatter her, " But, Fadette, you are not so ugly as you 
 think, or as you try to make out. There are a good 
 many uglier people than you, who are never told 
 of it." 
 
 " It makes no difference whether I am a little more 
 or a little less ugly, you cannot say, Landry, that I 
 am a pretty girl. Come, don't try to comfort me ; for 
 I don't care anything about it." 
 
 "Pshaw! Who knows how you would look if you 
 were dressed like the other girls, and had on a pretty 
 cap! One thing everybody acknowledges; that is, 
 that if your nose were not so short, your mouth so 
 big, and your skin so dark, you wouldn't be at all bad- 
 looking. They say too, that there is not another 
 such a pair of eyes in all the country round, and if 
 they had not such a bold, defiant expression, anybody 
 would be glad to get a kind glance from them." 
 
 Landry said this without much reflection. He 
 found himself recalling all Fadette's good and bad 
 117
 
 118 FADETTE 
 
 points, and, for the first time, he felt an interest in 
 the subject which he would not have believed possi- 
 ble a short time before. She noticed it, but said 
 nothing about it, being too clever to take it seriously. 
 
 " My eyes look kindly on everything good, 11 said 
 she, " and with pity on what is not good. Then I 
 don't mind displeasing people who don't please me, 
 and I cannot see how all those pretty girls whom I 
 see admired, can flirt with everybody, as if they liked 
 one person as well as another. As for me, if I 
 were pretty, I should not want any one to think 
 me so, or find me attractive but the one person of 
 whom I was fond." 
 
 Landry could not help thinking of Madelon, but 
 little Fadette did not allow him to dwell on that sub- 
 ject. She continued : 
 
 "So then, Landry, the only wrong I have done 
 other people, is that I have never sought their 
 pity or indulgence for my ugliness. I have showed 
 it to them without any disguise or embellishment, 
 and that offends them, and makes them forget that 
 though I have often done them a favor, I have never 
 done them any harm. On the other hand, even if I 
 should take an interest in my appearance, where 
 should I manage to buy finery? Have I ever begged, 
 even though I haven't a cent to bless myself with? 
 What does my grandmother give me beside board 
 and lodging? And if I don't know how to make use 
 of the poor rags my mother left me, is it my fault, 
 since nobody ever took the trouble to teach me, and
 
 FADETTE 119 
 
 I hav.e been left to myself since I was ten years old, 
 with nobody to look after me ? I know what people 
 say about me, though you are too kind to speak of it. 
 They say that I am sixteen years old, and that I 
 could hire myself out, and then I should earn wages 
 enough to support myself. They say that I only 
 stay with my grandmother because I am too lazy and 
 too self-willed to work out, though she does not like 
 me at all, and is well able to keep a servant." 
 
 " Well, Fadette, isn't it true ? " said Landry. " They 
 say that you are not fond of work, and your grand- 
 mother herself says that she would be much better 
 off if she had a servant in your place." 
 
 " My grandmother says that because she loves to 
 scold and complain. And yet, whenever I speak of 
 going away, she refuses to let me go, because she 
 knows that I am more useful to her than she will 
 admit. Her eyes and her limbs are not so young 
 as they once were, and she is no longer able to 
 gather the herbs which she uses for her potions 
 and powders : and some of them grow very far 
 off and are difficult to get at. Besides that, as I 
 told you, I know more about some kinds of herbs 
 than she does herself, and she is surprised at the 
 good effects of the medicines I make. As for our 
 animals, they are so fine that everybody is aston- 
 ished to see such a handsome flock belonging to 
 people who have no pasture of their own. My 
 grandmother knows well enough whom she ought 
 to thank for her good yield of wool, and her rich
 
 120 FADETTE 
 
 goat's milk. No, indeed, she doesn't want me to go 
 away, and I am worth a great deal more than I cost 
 her. I am fond of my grandmother, even if she 
 does scold me and give me hardly anything to eat. 
 But I have another reason for staying with her, and 
 I'll tell you, Landry, what it is, if you care to hear." 
 
 " Well, go on and tell it," answered Landry, who 
 was greatly interested. 
 
 " When I was ten years old my mother left in my 
 care a poor, ugly child, as ugly as I am, and still 
 more unfortunate ; for he was born a cripple, is sickly, 
 puny, misshapen, and always peevish and ill-tempered 
 because he is always in pain, poor boy! Everybody 
 abuses him, hustles him about, and calls him names, 
 my poor Grasshopper! My grandmother scolds him 
 severely and would beat him too hard, if I did not 
 protect him from her by making believe to whip 
 him myself. But I always take care not to hurt 
 him at all, and he knows it well enough. So when 
 he has done anything naughty, he runs and hides 
 himself under my petticoats, and says : 
 
 "'Beat me before grandmother gets me! 1 And I 
 pretend to beat, and the little rascal makes believe 
 to cry. And then I take care of him. I can't always 
 help his being in rags, poor little fellow ; but when- 
 ever I can manage to get an old garment of any kind, 
 I make it over for him, and I cure him when he is sick, 
 whereas my grandmother would be the death of him, 
 for she doesn't know anything about the care of chil- 
 dren. So I look after the poor, sickly little thing, who
 
 FADETTE 121 
 
 would suffer if it were not for me, and would soon be 
 in the grave beside my poor father, who died in spite 
 of all my care. Perhaps I am not doing him a kind- 
 ness by keeping life in him, misshapen as he is, and 
 so ill-tempered; but I cannot help myself. And 
 when I think of going out to service, Landry, so 
 that I may have some money of my own, and es- 
 cape from my present wretched condition, my heart 
 aches for him, and I reproach myself, as if I were 
 my Grasshopper's mother, and he was about to die 
 through my neglect. So now you know all my faults 
 and shortcomings, Landry. May the dear Lord be 
 my judge! I forgive those who do not understand 
 me."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 LITTLE Fadette's account of herself affected Lan- 
 dry very much, and he could not help acknowledging 
 to himself that her reasoning was unanswerable. At 
 last he was quite overcome by the way she spoke of 
 her little brother, the Grasshopper, and was seized 
 with a sudden liking for her, which made him feel 
 as if he would be willing to take her part against 
 the whole world. 
 
 " Any one who could blame you, Fadette, is more 
 deserving of blame than you are. You express your- 
 self very well, and nobody would give you credit for 
 having so much good sense and such a kind heart. 
 Why don't you let people see your true self? Then 
 nobody would speak ill of you any more, and there 
 would certainly be some who would do you justice." 
 
 " But I told you, Landry," answered she, " that I 
 do not care to please anybody whom I do not like." 
 
 " And as you have told me, it must be because " 
 
 Then Landry stopped, taken by surprise by what 
 he found himself about to say ; he continued : 
 
 " Then you must think more of me than you do of 
 anybody else? I always thought you hated me, for I 
 have never been good to you." 
 122
 
 FADETTE 123 
 
 "Perhaps I did hate you a little bit," answered 
 little Fadette ; " but if I did, I shall never hate you 
 again after to-day, and I'll tell you why, Landry. I 
 thought you were proud, and so you are ; but you'll 
 do your duty in spite of your pride, and you deserve 
 all the more credit. I thought you ungrateful, and 
 though you have been taught to be so proud that it 
 makes you a little ungrateful, you are so true to your 
 word that you keep it whatever it may cost you. 
 And then, I thought you were a coward, and that 
 made me despise you ; but I find that you are only 
 superstitious, and that you are not wanting in courage 
 when you have real danger to face. You danced 
 with me, though it was a great mortification to you. 
 You even came into church to look for me after 
 Vespers, just as I had forgiven you in my heart after 
 saying my prayers, and had made up my mind not 
 to torment you any more. You protected me from 
 those naughty children, and you defied the big boys 
 who would have ill-treated me if it had not been for 
 you. And then this evening when you heard me 
 crying, you came at once to help and comfort me. 
 Don't imagine, Landry, that I can ever forget such 
 things as that. I will find some means of proving to 
 you, all your life long, that I have not forgotten what 
 you have done for me, and I will always do anything 
 I can for you and at any time. Now, to begin with, 
 I know that I gave you a great deal of trouble to-day. 
 Yes, Landry, I am sure of it, and I am enough of a 
 witch to have guessed something about you which I
 
 124 FADETTE 
 
 did not suspect this morning. Now do believe that 
 I am more mischievous than malicious, and that if I 
 had known that you were in love with Madelon, I 
 would not have made trouble between you and her 
 as I did, by making you dance with me. I acknowl- 
 edge, I thought it was great fun to make you leave a 
 pretty girl to dance with a fright like me ; but I sup- 
 posed that it was only a wound to your vanity. When 
 I came to understand that you were really hurt, 
 that, in spite of yourself, you could not help looking 
 over at Madelon, and that you were almost ready to 
 cry when you saw how angry she was, I cried my- 
 self! Yes, I cried when you wanted to fight her 
 admirers, and you thought they were tears of repent- 
 ance. That is the reason I was still crying so bit- 
 terly when you happened to come upon me here, and 
 I shall never stop crying over it till I have atoned 
 for the trouble I have brought upon such a good boy 
 as I now know you to be." 
 
 "Well, and suppose, my poor Fanchon," said 
 Landry, much moved by the tears which she was 
 beginning to shed afresh, "suppose that you did 
 cause a falling out between me and the girl with 
 whom you think I am in love, what could you do to 
 reconcile us ? " 
 
 " Leave that to me, Landry," answered little 
 Fadette. " I know enough to explain things satis- 
 factorily. Madelon shall know that it was all my 
 fault. I will tell her everything and will clear you 
 entirely. If she does not make up with you to-mor-
 
 FADETTE 125 
 
 row, it will be because she has never loved you, 
 and " 
 
 "And then I ought not to feel badly about it, 
 Fanchon. And as she really never has loved me, 
 you would have all your trouble for nothing. So 
 don't do it, and don't worry yourself about the trifling 
 annoyance you have caused me. I have gotten over 
 it already." 
 
 "Such troubles as that are not so easily healed," 
 answered little Fadette. Then recollecting herself, 
 she went on : 
 
 "At least, so they say. You are angry now, 
 Landry. To-morrow, when you have slept over it, 
 you will feel very unhappy till you have made your 
 peace with pretty Madelon." 
 
 " Perhaps I may," said Landry. " But just now, I 
 pledge you my word that I don't understand what 
 you mean, and am not bothering myself about it at 
 all. It seems to me that you are trying to make me 
 believe that I am in love with her, and I really think 
 that if I ever did care for her, it was so little that I 
 can hardly remember it." 
 
 " That's strange ! " said little Fadette, sighing. " Is 
 that the way you boys love ? " 
 
 "Pshaw! You girls don't love any better! Just 
 see how little it takes to offend you, and how soon 
 you take up with any new person who happens to 
 come along. But perhaps we are talking about 
 things which we don't understand ; at least I don't 
 believe that you know what you are talking about,
 
 126 FADETTE 
 
 Fadette ; you, who are always making fun of lovers. 
 I've no doubt you think it would be great fun to try 
 and patch up my quarrel with Madelon. Don't do it, 
 I tell you ; for she might think that I had asked you 
 to do it, and she would be very much mistaken. 
 Then she might be angry if she thought that I was 
 representing myself as her accepted lover ; for, to tell 
 the truth, I've never made love to her at all, and even 
 if I did like her society, and was fond of dancing with 
 her, she never encouraged me to say anything to her 
 on the subject. So we had better let the matter 
 drop. She may get over it by herself if she chooses, 
 and if she doesn't, I don't think it will be the death 
 of me." 
 
 "I know what you think about that, better than 
 you do yourself, Landry," said little Fadette. " I 
 believe you when you say that you have never told 
 your love to Madelon in so many words, but she 
 must be very stupid if she has not read it in your 
 eyes, especially to-day. Since I was the cause of your 
 quarrel, I must try and bring you together again, and 
 it would be a good opportunity to let Madelon know 
 that you love her. I will undertake to tell her, and I 
 will do it so delicately and with so much tact, that she 
 can never accuse you of putting it into my head. Just 
 trust your little Fadette, Landry, the poor ugly 
 Cricket whose heart is not so ugly as her face, and 
 forgive my having tormented you ; for it will all turn 
 out right. You will find out that if it is pleasant to 
 have a pretty girl in love with you, it is also very con-
 
 FADETTE 127 
 
 venient to have an ugly girl as a friend ; for ugly girls 
 are disinterested and are not so touchy, and don't 
 bear malice for every fancied slight." 
 
 " It doesn't make any difference whether you are 
 pretty or ugly, Fanchon," said Landry, taking her 
 hand. " I can see already that your friendship is a 
 very good thing to have, so good, that perhaps it 
 is more to be desired than love. I know now that you 
 must have a good disposition, for I was very rude to 
 you to-day, and you did not resent it, and though you 
 say that I have treated you well, I know better, I 
 have acted very meanly indeed." 
 
 "What do you mean, Landry? I don't know 
 what " 
 
 " Why, I didn't kiss you once in the dance, though 
 it is the custom, and I ought to have done it. I treated 
 you as if you were a little girl of ten, whom no one 
 would take the trouble to kiss, and yet you are 
 almost as old as I am ; there isn't more than a year 
 between us. So I really insulted you, and if you 
 were not such a goodrhearted girl, you would have 
 noticed it." 
 
 " I never once thought of it," said little Fadette ; 
 and she got up, for she felt that she was not telling 
 the truth, and she did not want him to find it out. 
 "Come," said she, trying to speak cheerfully, "just 
 hear the crickets chirping in the stubble fields! They 
 are calling me by name, and that owl over there is 
 telling me the hour by the star clock in the sky." 
 
 " I hear it too, and I must go back to La Priche ;
 
 128 FADETTE 
 
 but before I say good-bye, Fadette, won't you tell mt 
 that you forgive me ? " 
 
 " But I am not angry with you, Landry. and I have 
 nothing to forgive." 
 
 "Yes, you have, 1 ' said Landry, who felt curiously 
 perturbed since she had been talking to him about 
 love and friendship in so soft a voice that the drowsy 
 chirping of the bulfinches in the thicket seemed 
 harsh in comparison. "Yes, you have something to 
 forgive, and you must let me kiss you now, to make 
 up for not doing it to-day." 
 
 Little Fadette trembled, then recovering her self- 
 possession, she said : 
 
 " So you want me to let you do penance for your 
 shortcomings. Well, I will acquit you, my boy. It 
 is enough to have danced with the ugly girl, it would 
 be too much to expect you to kiss her, too." 
 
 "Ah, don't say that," exclaimed Landry, catching 
 hold of her hand and arm at the same time ; " I don't 
 think it would be a penance to kiss you at least 
 if it didn't offend and annoy you, coming from 
 me " 
 
 And as he said this, he was seized with such a 
 strong desire to kiss little Fadette that he trembled 
 for fear she would not consent. 
 
 " Listen, Landry," said she to him in her soft, 
 caressing voice ; " if I were a pretty girl, I should tell 
 you that this is neither the place nor the time for kiss- 
 ing, as if we were doing it on the sly. If I were a 
 flirt, I should think, on the contrary, that the time
 
 FADETTE 129 
 
 and place were just suitable ; for you can't see how 
 ugly I am in the dark, and as there is nobody here, 
 you need not be ashamed of this notion which you 
 have taken into your head. But as I am neither 
 pretty nor a coquette, I must tell you this : just shake 
 hands with me to show that we are friends, and that 
 will be quite enough for me ; for I have never had a 
 friend before, and never expect to have another." 
 
 "Yes," said Landry, "I'll shake hands with you 
 gladly ; but listen, Fadette, the most honest friend- 
 ship and that is what I feel for you need not 
 prevent your allowing me to kiss you. If you will 
 not give me that token of good-will, I shall think 
 you have something against me." 
 
 Then he tried to snatch a kiss, but she resisted, and 
 when he persevered, she began to cry and said, " Let 
 me go, Landry, you hurt my feelings! " 
 
 Landry stopped in surprise, and was so annoyed 
 to see that she was crying that he was almost angry 
 with her. 
 
 " Now I see that you were not telling me the truth 
 when you said that you did not care if nobody else 
 liked you but me. You like somebody better than 
 you do me, and that is the reason you will not 
 kiss me." 
 
 " No, Landry," answered she, sobbing ; " but I am 
 afraid that if you kiss me at night when you can't 
 see me, you will hate me when you see me again 
 by daylight." 
 
 "Haven't I seen you before?" said Landry, pro- 
 K
 
 130 FADETTE 
 
 voked. " Don't I see you this very minute ? Just 
 come a little this way, here in the moonlight I 
 can see you as well as can be, and, pretty or ugly, 
 I like your face, for I like you. That's all I have 
 to say about it." 
 
 And then he kissed her, at first quite timidly, 
 and then so increased in his ardor that she grew 
 frightened, and pushed him away, saying : 
 
 " That will do, Landry. That will do. Any one 
 would think that you were kissing me because you 
 were angry with me, or that you were thinking of 
 Madelon. Don't worry yourself! I will speak to 
 her to-morrow, and you will enjoy kissing her a 
 great deal more than you enjoy kissing me." 
 
 So she sprang hastily up the bank which led to the 
 road, and ran off with her usual light step. 
 
 Landry was quite infatuated, and he had a great 
 mind to run after her. He started three times to 
 follow her, before he came to the conclusion to go 
 down the river bank. At last, feeling as if the devil 
 was at his heels, he began to run too, and never 
 stopped till he got to La Priche. 
 
 The next morning early, as he was feeding his 
 cattle and petting them, he kept thinking of the 
 conversation he had had with little Fadette in the 
 Chaumois road, and which had lasted a full hour, 
 though it seemed to him like a moment. His head 
 was heavy with sleep and the excitement of a day 
 which had turned out contrary to his expectations. 
 He was alarmed and puzzled as he recalled the feel-
 
 FADETTE 131 
 
 ing which had taken possession of him with regard 
 to this girl, whom he now saw in his mind's eye, ugly 
 and ill-dressed as he had always known her. Be- 
 tween whiles, it seemed to him that he must have 
 dreamed of wanting to kiss her, and of pressing her 
 to his heart as if he loved her dearly, and as if she 
 had all of a sudden become the prettiest and dearest 
 girl in the world to him. 
 
 " She must be a witch as they say she is, deny it as 
 she may," thought he ; " for she certainly bewitched 
 me last night, and never in all my life did I feel such 
 intense love for father, mother, sister, or brother, 
 certainly not for pretty Madelon, and not even for 
 my twin brother Sylvinet, as I felt for that devil of 
 a girl those two or three minutes. If poor Sylvinet 
 could have seen my heart, he would have died of jeal- 
 ousy. My fancy for Madelon did not interfere with 
 my love for my brother ; but if I should pass a single 
 day of such excitement and infatuation as I felt those 
 few moments when I was with Fadette, I should lose 
 my senses and think there was nobody else in the 
 world. 1 ' 
 
 And Landry felt half dead with shame, fatigue, and 
 vexation. He seated himself on the ox manger, and 
 trembled for fear that the witch had deprived him of 
 his courage, his reason, and his health. 
 
 But when it was broad daylight, and the farm 
 laborers of La Priche were all up, they began to 
 tease him about dancing with the ugly Cricket, and 
 they made her out so ugly, so ill-bred, so shabby,
 
 132 FADETTE 
 
 that he did not know where to hide his face, he was 
 so ashamed, not only of what they had seen, but of 
 what he took good care not to tell them. 
 
 But he did not get angry, for the La Priche people 
 were all friendly to him and meant no harm by teas- 
 ing him. He was even brave enough to tell them 
 that little Fadette was not what they believed her to 
 be, that she was as good as anybody else, and that 
 she was a girl who was capable of doing many a good 
 turn. Then they laughed at him more than ever. 
 
 " I won't say anything about her mother," said 
 they, "but as for her, she is a child who doesn't 
 know anything at all, and I advise you not to try any 
 of her remedies on a sick beast ; for she is a little 
 chatterbox and she doesn't know anything about 
 curing by magic. But she seems to know how to 
 bewitch boys ; for you never left her side all St. An- 
 doche's Day, and you'd better look out, Landry, my 
 boy, or they'll soon call you the Cricket's mate, and 
 the will-o'-the-wisp's double. The devil will get 
 after you. Old Nick himself will come and pull the 
 sheets off our beds and tangle our horses' manes. 
 We shall have to send for the priest to take off the 
 spell she has put upon you." 
 
 " I believe," said little Solange, " that he must have 
 put on one of his stockings wrong side out yesterday 
 morning. That attracts witches, and little Fadette 
 must have noticed it."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 DURING the day, Landry, who was busy sowing, 
 saw little Fadette pass. She was walking fast, and 
 went off in the direction of a coppice where Madelon 
 was cutting leaves for her sheep. It was time to un- 
 yoke the oxen, for they had finished their half-day's 
 work, and as Landry was leading them to pasture he 
 watched little Fadette running along with a step so 
 light that the grass hardly bent beneath her tread. 
 He was anxious to know what she was going to tell 
 Madelon, and instead of hurrying off to his dinner, 
 which was waiting for him in the furrow, still warm 
 from the ploughshare he walked on tiptoe along the 
 edge of the wood, to try and hear what the two girls 
 were talking about. He could not see them, and as 
 Madelon muttered her answers, he could not hear 
 what she said ; but little Fadette's voice, though soft, 
 was none the less clear, and he did not lose a word, 
 though she spoke in her usual tone. She was talking 
 to Madelon about him, and told her, as she had 
 promised Landry, how, ten months before, she had 
 made him pledge her his word to hold himself at her 
 disposal, whenever she should demand anything of 
 him. And she explained this humbly and so prettily 
 that it was a pleasure to listen to her, and then, with- 
 33
 
 134 FADETTE 
 
 out mentioning the will-o'-the-wisp, or how it had 
 frightened Landry, she told about his being almost 
 drowned on the Eve of St. Andoche, by attempt- 
 ing to cross the ford in the wrong place. In short, 
 she represented everything in its best light, and 
 made it evident that all the trouble came from a 
 whim of her own, as she wanted to dance with a big 
 boy, instead of the little urchins who had always been 
 her partners. 
 
 At this point, Madelon, who was quite out of 
 patience, raised her voice, and said : 
 
 " What is all that to me ? You may dance all your 
 life long with the twins of the Twinnery, for all I 
 care. You won't hurt my feelings, I can tell you, and 
 I certainly shall not envy you." 
 
 And Fadette answered : 
 
 " Don't speak so unkindly of poor Landry ; for his 
 heart is set on you, and if you don't accept it, you will 
 grieve him more than I can tell you." 
 
 She expressed herself so prettily and in so caress- 
 ing a tone of voice, and lavished such praise on 
 Landry, that he would gladly have borrowed her 
 powers of speech for use on future occasions, and 
 blushed with pleasure to hear himself so eulogized. 
 Madelon was also amazed at little Fadette's pretty 
 manner of speaking, but she despised her too much 
 to let her see how greatly she was impressed. 
 
 "You have a nimble tongue, and are as bold as 
 brass," said she ; " and it looks as if your grand- 
 mother had given you lessons in witchcraft ; but I
 
 FADETTE 135 
 
 don't like to talk to witches. It's bad luck, and so 
 you will please let me alone, you silly Cricket. You've 
 caught a beau ; keep him, my pretty dear, for he is 
 the first and last who will ever take a fancy to your 
 ugly mug. You needn't think I'd take your leavings ; 
 no, not if he were a prince. Your Landry is 
 nothing but a fool, and he must be utterly good for 
 nothing, if you, believing that you had taken him 
 away from me, have already come to ask me to take 
 him back. A fine beau for me! A fellow that even 
 little Fadette won't have ! " 
 
 ' If that is what is wounding your pride," answered 
 little Fadette, in a tone of voice which went straight 
 to the bottom of Landry's heart, " and if you are so 
 haughty that you will not do him justice till you have 
 first humiliated me, then rest content, Madelon, and 
 trample under foot the self-respect and spirit of the 
 poor little field Cricket. You say that I must despise 
 Landry or I wouldn't beg you to forgive him. Well, 
 let me tell you, if you care to hear it, that I have 
 been in love with him a long time, that he is the 
 only boy I ever cared for, and that I shall perhaps 
 never care for anybody else as long as I live. But I 
 have too much sense, and am also too proud, to fancy 
 that I can ever win his love. He is handsome, rich, 
 and highly esteemed ; I am ugly, poor, and despised. 
 I know well enough that he is too good for me, and 
 you must have seen how he scorned me at the festival. 
 So, I say, don't worry ; for the man to whom little 
 Fadette would not dare to lift her eyes, loves you
 
 136 FADETTE 
 
 dearly. Punish little Fadette by ridiculing her, and 
 by taking possession of him to whom she would not 
 venture to lay claim. If you 'won't do it out of love 
 for him, you may, at least, do it to punish my inso- 
 lence, promise me, when he comes to make his 
 peace with you, to treat him kindly, and give him a 
 little encouragement." 
 
 Instead of being touched by such humility and self- 
 devotion, Madelon was very scornful indeed, and 
 dismissed little Fadette, saying that she might keep 
 Landry, he would just suit her, but as for herself, 
 he was too childish and too big a fool. But little 
 Fadette's act of self-sacrifice bore fruit in spite of 
 Madelon's disdain. Such is the perversity of women's 
 hearts, that a boy seems to them a man as soon as he 
 is liked and petted by other women. Madelon, who 
 had never given Landry a serious thought, now be- 
 gan to think about him a great deal as soon as 
 Fadette had gone away. She remembered every- 
 thing the clever little talker had said to her about 
 Landry's love, and she rejoiced in being able to 
 avenge herself on Fadette, now that she, poor girl, 
 had gone so far as to acknowledge that she was in 
 love with him herself. 
 
 That evening she went to La Priche, which was 
 only two or three gun-shots away from her own home, 
 and pretending to be in search of one of her own cattle, 
 which had strayed into the same field with her uncle's, 
 she took care that Landry should see her, and encour- 
 aged him, with a glance, to come and speak to her.
 
 FADETTE 137 
 
 Landry understood very well, for since he had 
 seen so much of little Fadette his wits had sharpened 
 wonderfully. 
 
 " Fadette is a witch," thought he ; " she has re- 
 established me in Madelon's good graces, and she has 
 accomplished more for me in a half-hour's chat than 
 I could have done for myself in a year. She is 
 wonderfully clever, and God doesn't often make so 
 good a heart as hers." 
 
 And as this thought passed through his mind, he 
 looked at Madelon, but so coldly that she went away 
 before he could make up his mind to go and speak to 
 her. He was not abashed in her presence, strange 
 to say, his shyness had all disappeared, but with it 
 had vanished the pleasure he had once taken in her 
 society, and his desire to win her love. 
 
 He had hardly eaten supper when he pretended 
 to be going to bed. He soon got out on the side 
 next the wall, crept softly out, and started off for the 
 Roulettes ford. This evening, too, the will-o'-the- 
 wisp was flitting about. As soon as he caught sight 
 of it, Landry thought : 
 
 " So much the better ; there is the will-o'-the-wisp. 
 Fadette can't be far off." So he crossed the ford, 
 quite fearlessly, made no misstep, and went up to 
 Mother Fadet's house, keeping a sharp lookout. He 
 waited a little while, but saw no light and heard no 
 noise. Everybody was in bed. He was in hopes that 
 the Cricket, who often prowled about at night after 
 her grandmother and the Grasshopper were asleep,
 
 138 FADETTE 
 
 might be wandering somewhere in the neighborhood. 
 So he set off to try and find her. He crossed the 
 field ; he went as far as the Chaumois road, whistling 
 and singing at the top of his voice to attract atten- 
 tion ; but he saw nothing but a badger stealing 
 through the stubble, and a screech-owl hooting on a 
 tree-top. He had to go home without finding an 
 opportunity to thank the girl who had done him such 
 good service.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A WHOLE week passed and Landry did not meet 
 Fadette, which surprised and worried him very much. 
 
 " She must still think me ungrateful," said he ; 
 " and yet if I haven't succeeded in seeing her, it is 
 not for want of waiting and looking for her. I must 
 have hurt her feelings by kissing her without her 
 consent, yet I meant no harm, and never thought of 
 offending her." And he gave more time to thought 
 this week than he had ever given before in all his 
 life. 
 
 His mind was disturbed, he was pensive and agi- 
 tated, and he could not work without an effort ; for 
 neither the big oxen, nor the shining plough, nor the 
 rich red soil, moist with the fine rain of autumn, could 
 fill his thoughts now. 
 
 Thursday evening he went to see his twin, and 
 found him as anxious as himself. Sylvinet's dis- 
 position was unlike his, but they were often in sym- 
 pathy with each other. He seemed to have divined 
 that something had disturbed his brother's tranquillity, 
 and yet he was far from suspecting what it was. He 
 asked whether he had made up with Madelon, and 
 for the first time in his life Landry lied to him and 
 139
 
 140 FADETTE 
 
 said yes. The fact is that Landry had not spoken a 
 word to Madelon, and thought there was plenty of 
 time for that, there was no hurry. 
 
 At last Sunday came, and Landry went to early 
 Mass. He went in before the bell had rung, know- 
 ing that little Fadette was in the habit of coming 
 at that time, because her prayers were always so long 
 that everybody ridiculed her. He saw a little figure 
 kneeling in the Chapel of the Blessed Virgin, the 
 back turned, and the face hidden in the hands so 
 that there might be nothing to distract the mind. 
 It was little Fadette's posture, but it was not her 
 cap nor dress, and Landry went out again to see if 
 he could not find her on the porch, which we call 
 by a word which signifies the place of rags and 
 tatters, because there are so many ragged beggars 
 there during service. Fadette's rags were the only 
 ones which he did not see. He heard Mass with- 
 out seeing her, and it was only at the Sursum Corda 
 that, looking once more toward that girl who was 
 praying so fervently in the chapel, he saw her raise 
 her head, and recognized his Cricket, though her 
 whole appearance was totally unfamiliar to him. 
 She still wore the same shabby dress, the coarse 
 woollen petticoat, the red apron, and the linen cap, 
 without the usual lace trimmings ; but she had 
 bleached, cut over, and mended everything during 
 the week. She had let down her dress so that it fell 
 over her stockings, at a more suitable length. Her 
 stockings were very white, and so was her cap, which
 
 FADETTE 141 
 
 had been altered over into the new shape, and sat 
 prettily on her neatly braided black hair. She wore 
 a new neckkerchief of a pretty, soft yellow, which 
 suited her dark complexion. She had also length- 
 ened her bodice, and instead of looking like a 
 dressed-up piece of wood, she had a slender, graceful 
 waist like a beautiful honey-bee. Moreover, by wash- 
 ing her face and hands with some unknown tincture of 
 flowers and herbs, her pale face and her dainty little 
 hands looked as fresh and soft as the white blossoms 
 of the spring hawthorn. 
 
 Landry, seeing her so changed, let his prayer-book 
 drop, and at the noise it made, little Fadette turned 
 quite around and looked at him, and their eyes met. 
 She blushed a little, a pale pink, like the wild hedge 
 rose, but it made her look almost beautiful, es- 
 pecially as her black eyes, which were undeniably 
 lovely, were so brilliant, that she seemed completely 
 transfigured. Landry thought again, " She must be 
 a witch. She has willed to change herself from an 
 ugly girl into a pretty one, and, lo and behold! 
 some miracle has made her beautiful ! " 
 
 He was really quite awestruck, but that did not 
 prevent his having such a desire to approach and 
 speak to her, that his heart beat with impatience for 
 Mass to be over. 
 
 But she did not look at him again, and, instead of 
 scampering about and frolicking with the children 
 after her prayers, she slipped out so quietly that she 
 hardly gave people time to notice the change and
 
 142 FADETTE 
 
 improvement in her. Landry did not dare follow 
 her, particularly as Sylvinet never took his eyes off of 
 him ; but, about an hour afterward, he succeeded in 
 getting off, and this time, following the guidance of 
 his heart, he found little Fadette, who was tending 
 her cattle in the little hollow roadway called the 
 Gendarme's Path, because one of the king's gen- 
 darmes had been killed there by the people of La 
 Cosse in olden times, as he was trying to compel the 
 poor people to pay the tax and do extra duty, con- 
 trary to the requirements of the law, already severe 
 enough.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 As it was Sunday, Fadette was neither sewing nor 
 spinning as she watched her flocks. She was en- 
 gaged in a simple amusement which our peasant 
 children sometimes take very seriously. She was 
 looking for four-leaved clover, which is seldom seen, 
 and which brings good luck to those who chance to 
 find it. 
 
 " Have you found one, Fanchon," said Landry to 
 her, as soon as he reached her side. 
 
 " I have often found them," answered she ; " but 
 they don't bring good luck, and I am none the better 
 off for having three sprigs in my book." 
 
 Landry sat down beside her as if to have a long 
 talk. But, lo and behold, all of a sudden, he felt 
 more bashful than he had ever felt with Madelon, 
 and though he had a good deal to say, he could not 
 think of a word. 
 
 Little Fadette was shy too; for though the twin 
 said nothing, he looked at her with a new expression 
 in his eyes. At last she asked him why he seemed 
 so surprised at the sight of her. 
 
 " Maybe it is because I have made a change in my 
 dress. I have followed your advice, and I thought
 
 144 FADETTE 
 
 that if I wanted to appear like a sensible girl, I must 
 begin by dressing myself sensibly. Now I don't 
 dare show myself for fear that people will find fault 
 with me again, and say that I have tried to make 
 myself less ugly, and have not succeeded." 
 
 " Let them say what they please," said Landry. 
 " But I don't know what you have done to make 
 yourself pretty : you certainly look lovely to-day, and 
 nobody with eyes in his head could deny it." 
 
 " Don't make fun of me, Landry," answered little 
 Fadette. "They say beauty turns the heads of 
 pretty girls, and ugliness drives ugly girls to despera- 
 tion. I am used to being a fright, and I should not 
 like to be so foolish as to think that any one could 
 admire me. But you didn't come to see me about 
 that, and I am waiting to hear that Madelon has for- 
 given you." 
 
 " I didn't come to talk to you about Madelon. I 
 don't know whether she has forgiven me or not, and 
 I haven't asked. I only know that you spoke to her 
 about me, and so kindly that I am very much obliged 
 to you." 
 
 " How do you know that I spoke to her about you ? 
 She didn't tell you, did she? If she did, you must 
 have made up with her." 
 
 " We haven't made up ; we don't care enough for 
 each other she and I to have a falling out. I 
 know that you spoke to her, for she told somebody 
 who told me." 
 
 Little Fadette blushed deeply, which made her
 
 FADETTE 145 
 
 look still prettier, for never till to-day had her cheeks 
 worn that modest glow of timidity and gratification 
 which makes the ugliest face attractive ; but at the 
 same time she was anxious lest Madelon had repeated 
 her words, and turned her into ridicule on account of 
 the love which she had confessed for Landry. 
 
 "And what did Madelon say about me?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " She said that I was a great fool, and that none of 
 the girls liked me, not even little Fadette. That 
 little Fadette despised me, ran away from me, had 
 hidden herself a whole week to avoid seeing me, 
 though I had been looking everywhere for her that 
 whole week through. So / am a public laughing- 
 stock, not you, Fadette, because they know, that 
 I love you, and that you do not return my love." 
 
 " What a mean thing to say," answered Fadette, in 
 astonishment ; for she was not enough of a witch to 
 guess that Landry was slyer than she. "I would 
 never have believed that Madelon was so untruthful 
 and so deceitful. But we must forgive her, Landry; 
 she says those things out of pique, and she would not 
 be piqued if she did not love you." 
 
 " Perhaps that's so," said Landry ; " that is why you 
 are not piqued with me, Fanchon. You forgive me 
 everything, because you despise everything I do." 
 
 " I don't deserve that you should say such things to 
 
 me, Landry. Now, tell the truth ; have I deserved 
 
 it? I never was so foolish as to tell the lies which 
 
 they put in my mouth. What I said to Madelon was 
 
 L
 
 146 FADETTE 
 
 altogether different. What I told her was for her ear 
 alone, but there was nothing which could injure you, 
 indeed, on the contrary, it should have proved to 
 her how much I thought of you." 
 
 " Listen, Fanchon," said Landry ; " don't let us dis- 
 pute as to what you did or did not say. I want to 
 ask your advice, you are so clever. Last Sunday, 
 when I met you in the road, I was somehow seized 
 with such an affection for you that I have hardly eaten 
 or slept this whole week. I won't try to hide any- 
 thing from you, for you are so sharp that it would be 
 of no use. So I will own up that Monday morning 
 I was so ashamed of my love, that I was going to run 
 away, to avoid making such a fool of myself again. 
 But Monday evening it had taken such possession of 
 me once more, that I crossed the ford at night with- 
 out being at all afraid of the will-o'-the-wisp, though 
 it tried to prevent my looking for you ; for it was there 
 again, and when it smiled its wicked smile at me, I 
 smiled back again. Every morning since Monday, I 
 feel like a fool, because they tease me about my 
 liking for you ; and every evening I feel half crazy, 
 because my love for you is stronger than my bashful- 
 ness. And now to-day, you are so pretty and well- 
 mannered that everybody will be as much surprised 
 as I was, and in another fortnight, if you keep on as 
 you have begun, they will not only be ready enough 
 to understand how I could fall in love with you, but 
 there will be a good many in love with you beside 
 myself. Then you will no longer feel under obliga-
 
 FADETTE 147 
 
 tions to me for loving you ; however, if you have not 
 forgotten last Sunday, St. Andoche's Day, you 
 will remember, too, that I asked you in the Chaumois 
 road to let me kiss you, and that I did it with as much 
 ardor as if you had not been considered ugly and 
 disagreeable. That is all the claim I have to urge, 
 Fadette. Tell me if that will count for anything, or 
 if it makes you angry instead of appealing to your 
 feelings." 
 
 Little Fadette's face was buried in her hands, and 
 she did not answer. From what he had heard of her 
 talk with Madelon, Landry believed that she was in 
 love with him. and I must confess that this convic- 
 tion of her love for him had aroused in his heart 
 a corresponding affection for her. But when he saw 
 how mortified and downhearted she seemed, he be- 
 gan to fear that she had told Madelon a fib, to bring 
 about the reconciliation which she had undertaken. 
 This worried him, and he fell more in love with her 
 than ever. He drew her hands away from her face, 
 and saw that she was as pale as death, and when he 
 bitterly reproached her for not returning his ardent 
 love, she sank to the earth with clasped hands, 
 breathing heavily ; for she was suffocating and ready 
 to faint.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LANDRY was much alarmed, and chafed her hands 
 to restore her to consciousness. They were as cold 
 as ice, and as rigid as if made of wood. He rubbed 
 them a long time between his to warm them, and as 
 soon as she could speak, she said to him : 
 
 " I think you must be making fun of me, Landry. 
 But there are some subjects too sacred for jesting. 
 Leave-me alone, I beg of you, and never speak to me, 
 unless you have a favor to ask of me, in which case I 
 shall always be at your service." 
 
 " Fadette, Fadette," said Landry, " you must not 
 say that. It is you who are making fun of me. You 
 hate me, and yet you made me believe the contrary." 
 
 " I ! " said she, in distress, " what have I ever made 
 you believe ? I offered you a sincere affection, such 
 as your twin feels for you, and I have given you per- 
 haps a truer love than his ; for I was not jealous, and 
 instead of crossing you in your love affairs, I have 
 done my best to help you." 
 
 " That's true," said Landry. " You have behaved 
 
 like an angel, and I ought to be ashamed to reproach 
 
 you. Forgive me, Fanchon, and let me love you in 
 
 my own way. Perhaps it will not be so calm an 
 
 148
 
 FADETTE 149 
 
 affection as I have for my twin brother, or my sister 
 Nanette, but I promise not to try and kiss you again 
 if you don't like it." And with a sudden change of 
 sentiment, Landry fancied that little Fadette's affec- 
 tion for him was really a very moderate one, and as 
 he was neither vain nor boastful, he felt as shy and 
 timid in her presence as if he had not heard with his 
 own two ears what she had said about him to Made- 
 Ion. As for little Fadette, she was clever enough to see, 
 at last, that Landry was over head and ears in love 
 with her, and her momentary faintness had been 
 caused by excess of pleasure at this discovery. But 
 she was afraid that a happiness so quickly won 
 might be very short-lived. It was this fear which led 
 her to wish to give Landry time to conceive a strong 
 desire for her love. He stayed with her till dark ; for, 
 though he no longer dared make love to her, he took 
 such pleasure in looking at her and hearing her 
 speak that he could not bear to leave her a moment. 
 He played with the Grasshopper, who was never far 
 away from his sister, and who soon came and joined 
 them. He was good to him, and soon saw that 
 the poor little thing, whom everybody ill-treated, was 
 neither silly nor naughty with those who were kind to 
 him. Indeed, at the end of an hour, he was so far 
 civilized and so grateful, that he kissed the twin's 
 hands, and called him dear Landry just as he called 
 his sister dear Fanchon. Landry was touched and 
 pitied him, and it seemed to him that he and every- 
 body else had neglected their duty toward these
 
 150 FADETTE 
 
 poor children of Mother Fadefs, who only needed a 
 little of the love which other youngsters get, to be- 
 come better than any of them. The few succeeding 
 days Landry managed to see little Fadette, sometimes 
 in the evening, when he had a chance to have a little 
 chat with her, and sometimes in the daytime, when 
 he happened to meet her in the fields ; and though 
 she was not able to stop long, as she would not and 
 could not neglect her work, he was glad of the op- 
 portunity to say a few words to her, straight from his 
 heart, and to devour her with his eyes. And she con- 
 tinued to dress herself neatly, and to talk and behave 
 nicely to everybody, so that it attracted notice, and it 
 was not long before people began to treat her very 
 differently. As she no longer did anything out of 
 the way, she was no longer insulted, and when she 
 saw that, she no longer felt any temptation to use 
 bad language or annoy anybody. But as public 
 opinion is slower to change than our own resolutions, 
 some time was required to transform into esteem and 
 approval the contempt and dislike which had been 
 the general feeling toward her. You shall hear later 
 how this change came about. But for the present, 
 you may imagine that nobody placed much confi- 
 dence in little Fadette's reformation. Four or five of 
 those good old men and women, who are lenient in 
 their judgment of young people growing up around 
 them, and who act the part of fathers and mothers to 
 the whole neighborhood, sometimes met to have a 
 chat under the walnut trees of La Cosse, and watch
 
 FADETTE 151 
 
 the youngsters swarming around them, dancing and 
 playing quoits. And these old people would say : 
 
 " So-and-so will make a fine soldier if he keeps on, 
 for he is too well built to be exempted from service ; 
 that boy will be clever and sharp like his father ; that 
 one over there will be as intelligent and even-tem- 
 pered as his mother; that young Lucette will cer- 
 tainly make a good farm servant. Big Louise will 
 have plenty of admirers, and as for little Marion, 
 she'll have as much sense as the others by the time 
 she is grown up." 
 
 And when it came little Fadette's turn to be criti- 
 cised and have judgment passed on her, they said : 
 
 " Look at her hurry past, without stopping to sing 
 or dance. We haven't seen anything of her since 
 St. Andoche's Day. It must be that she was dread- 
 fully shocked when the children from hereabouts 
 pulled off her cap in the dance, so she has altered her 
 helmet and now she looks as well as anybody." 
 
 u Have you noticed how much fairer her skin has 
 grown lately ? " said Mother Couturier, one day. 
 " Her face used to be so covered with freckles that it 
 looked like a quail's egg, and the last time I saw her 
 close by I was astonished to see how white she was. 
 She even looked so pale that I asked her if she had 
 had the fever. Judging from present appearances, it 
 really looks as if she might continue to improve, and, 
 who can tell many an ugly girl turns out to be pretty 
 by the time she is seventeen or eighteen years old." 
 
 "And then they come to have some sense," said
 
 152 FADETTE 
 
 Father Naubin, "and a girl learns to make her- 
 self attractive and agreeable. It is high time for 
 the Cricket to realize that she is not a boy. Good 
 heavens! We all thought she'd turn out a perfect 
 disgrace to the place. But she'll settle down and 
 come out all right like the others. She will feel that 
 she must behave herself so that people will forget 
 that she had such a good-for-nothing mother, and 
 you'll see, she won't get herself talked about." 
 
 " God grant that she may," said Mother Courtillet ; 
 " for it is a pity to -see a girl look like a runaway 
 horse. But I have some hopes of Fadette ; for I met 
 her yesterday, and instead of hobbling along behind 
 me as usual, imitating my limp, she said good-morning 
 and asked after my health as nicely as anybody." 
 
 " That little girl you are all talking about is more 
 wild than bad," said Father Henri ; " she has a good 
 heart, I can tell you, for she has often taken my 
 grandchildren out to the fields with her, just to relieve 
 my daughter, when she was ill ; and she took such 
 good care of them that they wanted to stay with her." 
 
 " They tell me," said Father Couturier, " that one 
 of Father Barbeau's twins fell in love with her on St. 
 Andoche's Day. Is it true?" 
 
 "Nonsense!" answered Father Naubin. "You 
 mustn't place any faith in that story. It was only a 
 childish fancy, and the Barbeaus are no fools, 
 children or parents, let me tell you," 
 
 And so they talked about little Fadette, but nobody 
 thought of her very often ; for they hardly ever saw her.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 BUT there was one person who saw her very often, 
 and was greatly interested in her, and that was Lan- 
 dry Barbeau. He was beside himself when he could 
 not manage to get a few words with her, but as soon 
 as he was in her presence a moment, he was soothed 
 and contented ; for she talked sensibly to him, and 
 sympathized with his feelings. Perhaps her treatment 
 of him was not altogether free from coquetry, at least, 
 so it seemed to him ; but as her motive was honorable, 
 and she would not allow him to make love to her, till 
 she had duly considered the matter, he had no right 
 to complain. She could not suspect him of trying to 
 deceive her as to the ardor of his affection for her ; 
 for it was such love as is not often found among coun- 
 try people, who are less impulsive and passionate 
 than the dwellers in cities. Indeed Landry was by 
 nature rather more than usually phlegmatic, and no- 
 body could have foreseen that he would singe his wings 
 so severely. His secret was carefully hidden, and it 
 would have been a great surprise to any one who had 
 discovered it. But Fadette, seeing that he had given 
 his heart to her so suddenly and unreservedly, was 
 afraid that it might be only a flash in the pan, or that 
 153
 
 154 FADETTE 
 
 her own feelings might become more interested than 
 was seemly for two children, not yet of marriageable 
 age, at least according to the judgment of their 
 parents and the dictates of prudence ; for love is 
 impatient of delay, and when it is once kindled in the 
 hearts of two youngsters, it is a miracle, indeed, if it 
 waits for the approval of others. 
 
 But little Fadette, who had always seemed younger 
 than she really was, had plenty of sense, and a power 
 of will far in advance of her age. She must have 
 had extraordinary strength of mind to produce this 
 result ; for hers was a passionate nature, more so, 
 indeed, than Landry's. She was desperately in love 
 with him, and yet she behaved with remarkable dis- 
 cretion ; for though she thought of him constantly, 
 day and night, and longed to see him and caress 
 him, she controlled herself as soon as she saw him, 
 talked calmly and sensibly to him, even pretending 
 that she did not know what it was to love passion- 
 ately, and allowing him simply to shake hands with 
 her. 
 
 And Landry, who was so greatly infatuated with 
 her that, when he was alone with her in secluded 
 places or under cover of the darkness, he might so 
 far have forgotten himself as to refuse to obey her, 
 was nevertheless so afraid of her displeasure, and 
 so uncertain that she really loved him, that he was 
 on as innocent terms with her as if she had been 
 his sister, and he Jeanet, the little Grasshopper. 
 
 Fadette, to turn his attention frpm ideas which she
 
 FADETTE 155 
 
 did not wish to encourage, tried to teach him all the 
 things she knew, and her intelligence and natural 
 ability had carried her far beyond her grandmother's 
 instructions. She did not try to keep up any appear- 
 ance of mystery with Landry, and as he had always 
 had a fear of witchcraft, she tried her best to make 
 him understand that the devil had nothing to do 
 with the secrets of her science. 
 
 " Pshaw, Landry," she said to him one day, " there 
 is no such thing as the intervention of the evil spirit. 
 There is only one spirit, and that is a good one ; for 
 it is the spirit of God. Lucifer is an invention of the 
 Cure's, and the Old Nick is an old wife's tale. When 
 I was a little thing, I believed in all those stories and 
 stood in great awe of my grandmother's evil spells, 
 but she laughed me out of it ; for, to tell the truth, 
 those who doubt everything are the ones who try 
 to impose on others, and nobody has less faith in 
 the devil than the witches themselves, though they 
 are always invoking him on all occasions. They 
 know well enough that they have never seen him 
 or received the slightest aid from him. Those who 
 are so silly as to believe in him and try to call him 
 up, have never succeeded in getting him to appear. 
 For instance, there was the miller of Passe-aux-chiens, 
 who, as my grandmother told me, used to go to a 
 place where four roads meet, carrying a big cudgel, 
 and there he would summon the devil, intending to 
 give him a sound thrashing. And they heard him 
 shouting in the night, 'Are you coming, you devil?
 
 156 FADETTE 
 
 Are you coming, mad dog? Are you coming, Old 
 Nick?' But no Old Nick ever made his appearance. 
 So the miller was quite eaten up with vanity, for he 
 thought the devil was afraid of him." 
 
 " But, my little Fanchon," said Landry, " it isn't 
 exactly Christian not to believe in the devil." 
 
 " I can't argue about it," said she ; " but if he does 
 exist, I am quite sure that he has no power to come 
 on earth and do us any harm or steal away our souls 
 from God. He could never have the insolence to do 
 that, and since the earth is the Lord's, He alone can 
 govern the men and things which dwell on it." 
 
 So Landry laid aside his foolish fears, and could 
 not help wondering to see little Fadette so good a 
 Christian in all her ways of thinking, and in her 
 prayers. Indeed her piety took a more attractive 
 form than that of other people. She loved God with 
 all the fervor of her nature ; for her keen intelligence 
 and her tender heart were apparent in everything she 
 did. When she spoke to Landry of this love, he was 
 amazed to discover that he had been taught to repeat 
 certain prayers and practise certain observances with- 
 out the remotest idea of their meaning, and that 
 though he had -always treated sacred things with 
 reverence from a sense of duty, his heart had never 
 glowed with love for his Creator as little Fadette's 
 did.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 IN his walks and talks with her, he became ac- 
 quainted with the properties of herbs, and with all 
 sorts of recipes for curing man and beast. He soon 
 tried the effect of one of the latter on one of Father 
 Caillaud's cows, which had eaten too much green 
 food, and was swollen up with the colic. As the 
 veterinary had given her up, saying that she could 
 not live an hour, Landry gave her a potion which 
 little Fadette had taught him to prepare. He told 
 nobody what he had done, and the next morning 
 when the workmen very sorry for the loss of so 
 fine a cow came to bury her, they found her stand- 
 ing up, beginning to sniff at her food ; her eyes were 
 bright and the swelling had almost entirely disap- 
 peared. Another time, a colt was bitten by a viper, 
 and Landry, still following the directions of little 
 Fadette, cured it in short order. Finally, he had an 
 opportunity of trying the antidote for hydrophobia 
 on one of the La Priche dogs, who got well before he 
 had bitten, anybody. As Landry did his best to hide 
 his intimacy with little Fadette, he did not boast of 
 his skill, and the cure of his cattle was attributed to 
 the care which he took of them. But Father Cail- 
 laud, who had a good knowledge of veterinary prac- 
 tice, like all good farmers, was surprised, and said : 
 '57
 
 158 FADETTE 
 
 " Father Barbeau has no special talent for cattle- 
 raising, and hasn't even very good luck at it ; for he 
 lost several fine cattle last year, and that, not for the 
 first time. But Landry has the knack of it, and that 
 is something one is born with. You have it or you 
 don't have it ; and even if one should go and study 
 in the schools as the veterinary surgeons do, it is no 
 use unless it is born in you. Now, I tell you, Landry 
 is clever, and so he finds out what remedies to use. 
 It is a great gift which nature has bestowed on him, 
 and it will be worth more than capital to him in the 
 management of a farm." 
 
 Father Caillaud's opinion was not that of a credu- 
 lous or ignorant man, only he was mistaken when he 
 took it for granted that Landry's skill was a gift of 
 nature. Landry had no gift, save carefulness and 
 intelligence in the use of the prescriptions which 
 had been taught him. Still there is such a thing 
 as a natural gift, for little Fadette had it ; and with 
 the few simple lessons which she had received from 
 her grandmother, she recognized the salutary proper- 
 ties which God has bestowed on certain plants, which 
 are to be employed in special ways, and showed as 
 much readiness as if she had discovered them her- 
 self. She told the truth when she declared that she 
 never resorted to witchcraft ; but she was very ob- 
 serving, and made experiments, drew inferences, no- 
 ticed, and made comparisons, and nobody can deny 
 that this is a natural gift. Father Caillaud went still 
 further, he was of the opinion that there are some
 
 FADETTE 159 
 
 herdsmen and laborers who are more or less lucky 
 than others, and that the very presence of such peo- 
 ple in the stable, benefits or injures the animals. 
 However, as there is always a little truth in the 
 greatest delusions, it must be acknowledged that 
 good care, cleanliness, and conscientious labor will 
 succeed, where negligence or stupidity will cause 
 disaster. 
 
 Landry's tastes had always run in that direction. 
 His love for Fadette was increased by the gratitude 
 which he felt for the information which she had given 
 him, and the respect which her talents and clever- 
 ness inspired. He was thankful enough to her now 
 for frowning down his love-making in their walks 
 and talks ; and he saw, too, that she had her lover's 
 interests and improvement more at heart than the 
 pleasure she might have experienced if she had 
 allowed him to court and flatter her as he had at 
 first wished to do. Landry was soon so much in 
 love that he was no longer ashamed to have it known 
 that he had given his heart to a girl who had the 
 reputation of being ugly, ill-tempered, and badly 
 brought up. If he still observed any precautions, it 
 was on account of his twin brother, whose jealous 
 disposition was well known to him, and who had been 
 obliged to make a great effort to resign himself to 
 Landry's fancy for Madelon, a very mild and tame 
 affair in comparison with what he now felt for Fanchon 
 Fadet. 
 
 But if Landry was too eager in his love to think of
 
 160 FADETTE 
 
 prudence, little Fadette, on the other hand, had a 
 natural fondness for mystery. Besides that, she did 
 not want to expose him to being teased about her. 
 Little Fadette, in short, loved him too well to wish to 
 make trouble between him and his family, and enjoined 
 upon him such secrecy that it was almost a year be- 
 fore anybody suspected that there was anything be- 
 tween them. Landry had cured Sylvinet of prying 
 into his affairs, and that part of the country, which is 
 sparsely inhabited and thickly wooded, affords many 
 facilities for lovers to meet in secret. Sylvinet, seeing 
 that Landry no longer gave a thought to Madelon, 
 though he had brought himself to regard sharing his 
 brother's affection with her as a necessary evil, made 
 more endurable by Landry's bashfulness and the girl's 
 prudence, was rejoiced to find that Landry was in no 
 hurry to withdraw his affection from his brother, to 
 bestow it on a woman, and, being no longer jealous, 
 he left him more free to do what he liked and go 
 where he pleased on fete days and holy days. Lan- 
 dry found plenty of pretexts for coming and going, 
 especially on Sunday evenings, when he left the Twin- 
 nery early, and did not go home to La Priche till 
 almost midnight. He had no difficulty in getting in ; 
 for he had persuaded them to let him have a little 
 bed in the Capharnion. 1 You will perhaps take me 
 
 1 Capharnion. This word with its correct spelling, Caphar- 
 naum, is much used in France. Capharnaum or Capernaum 
 was a large commercial town in Judea, hence its vulgar mean-
 
 FADETTE 161 
 
 up on this word, for the schoolmaster objects to it 
 and insists on calling it Capharnium ; but however 
 much he may know about the word, he knows nothing 
 about the thing, for I had to explain to him that it 
 was that part of a barn, near the stables, where they 
 keep the yokes, chains, horseshoes, and all sorts of 
 utensils used for the farm animals, and for the culti- 
 vation of the land. So Landry could go home at any 
 hour he pleased without waking anybody, and he 
 always had all day Sunday to himself and till Mon- 
 day morning, because Father Caillaud and his eldest 
 son, who were both very steady men and never fre- 
 quented wine shops or drank to excess on holidays, 
 were in the habit of assuming all the care and man- 
 agement of the farm on such occasions, in order, said 
 they, that all the young people of the establishment, 
 who worked harder than they did during the week, 
 might be free to frolic and amuse themselves, as our 
 good Lord intended them to do. 
 
 And in the winter time, when the nights are so cold 
 that love-making would have been very uncomfort- 
 able in the open air, Landry and little Fadette found a 
 safe shelter in the Jacot Tower, an old deserted dove- 
 cote, which the pigeons had abandoned years ago, 
 but which was still sound and weather-tight. It was 
 attached to Father Caillaud's farm, and he used it 
 even still for storing his surplus crops. As Landry kept 
 
 ing, a place where many things are stored. Littre, Diet, de la 
 langue franfaise. 
 M
 
 162 FADETTE 
 
 the key and the dove-cote stood on the border of the 
 La Priche property, not far from the Roulettes ford, 
 and in the middle of a walled field of luzerne grass, it 
 would have puzzled the devil himself to discover the 
 rendezvous of this pair of young lovers. When the 
 weather was mild, they wandered about the groves of 
 young trees, fit for cutting, which are numerous in 
 this part of the country. They form admirable hid- 
 ing-places for thieves and lovers, and as we have no 
 thieves among us, only the lovers avail themselves of 
 their shelter, and find themselves undisturbed and 
 free from annoyance.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 BUT as secrecy cannot be maintained forever, it 
 happened that, as Sylvinet was passing along by the 
 cemetery wall, one fine Sunday, he heard the voice of 
 his twin, a few steps away from him. Landry's tones 
 were low, but Sylvinet was so well acquainted with 
 his voice that he could have guessed what he was 
 talking about, even if he had not heard a single 
 word. 
 
 '- Why won't you come and dance ? " said he to a 
 person whom Sylvinet could not see. " It is so long 
 since you have been seen to stay after Mass, that 
 nobody will think anything of it if I dance with you, 
 as I am supposed to be only slightly acquainted with 
 you. They will not think that I do it for love of you, 
 but for politeness 1 sake, and because I want to see 
 whether you have forgotten how to dance." 
 
 " No, Landry, no," answered a voice which Syl- 
 vinet did not recognize, because it was so long since 
 he had heard it, little Fadette having kept herself so 
 aloof from everybody, and particularly from him. 
 
 " No," said she, " it is better that I should not 
 
 attract attention, and if you danced with me once, 
 
 you would want to do it every Sunday, and that 
 
 would be more than enough to make people talk 
 
 163
 
 164 FADETTE 
 
 about us. Believe what I have always told you, 
 Landry, the day when our love is discovered, our 
 troubles will begin. Let me go, and after you have 
 spent a part of the day with your family and your 
 twin brother, you may come and meet me at the 
 place which we agreed upon." 
 
 " But it is so melancholy never to dance," said 
 Landry ; " you used to be so fond of dancing, darling, 
 and you danced so well ! How delighted I should 
 be to take you by the hand, and whirl you about in 
 my arms, and to see you dance with nobody but me, 
 you who are so graceful and light-footed ! " 
 
 " That is just what I must not do," answered she. 
 " But I see that you are longing to dance, my dear 
 Landry, and there is no reason why you should 
 give it up. Go and dance a little ! I shall be glad 
 to know that you are enjoying yourself, and I shall 
 wait for you as patiently as possible." 
 
 " Oh, you have too much patience ! " said Landry, in 
 a voice which was indicative of a very slender supply 
 of that virtue ; " but I would rather have my legs cut 
 off than dance with girls I do not like, and whom 
 I wouldn't kiss for a hundred francs." 
 
 " Well, if I should dance," answered little Fadette, 
 " I could not help dancing with other young men 
 beside you, and I should have to let them kiss me 
 too." 
 
 " Go home then, go home, as quick as you can ! " 
 said Landry ; " I don't want anybody to kiss you." 
 
 Sylvinet heard nothing further except the sound of
 
 FADETTE 165 
 
 retreating footsteps, and he slipped quickly into the 
 cemetery and let his brother pass; for he did not 
 want to be caught eavesdropping by him. 
 
 This discovery was like a stab in the heart to Syl- 
 vinet. He did not try to find out what girl it was 
 with whom Landry was so desperately in love. It 
 was enough for him to know that there was a person 
 for whose sake Landry was willing to give him up, 
 to whom he devoted all his thought, so that he no 
 longer told his twin brother everything which con- 
 cerned him. 
 
 " He must have lost confidence in me," thought he, 
 "and this girl of whom he is so fond must put it into 
 his head to fear and dislike me. I am not surprised 
 now, that he is always so bored at home, and so rest- 
 less when I go out to walk with him. I gave it up, 
 thinking that he would rather be alone, but now I 
 shall be very careful not to annoy him. I shall not 
 say anything to him, for he would be angry with me 
 for finding out what he did not want me to know. I 
 shall be the only sufferer and he will be glad to get 
 rid of me." 
 
 Sylvinet kept his resolution, and even went farther 
 than necessary ; for not only did he give up all attempt 
 to keep his brother with him, but, in order to leave 
 him free to do just as he chose, he was always the 
 first to leave the house, and went wandering about 
 the orchard, never going out into the field, saying to 
 himself: 
 
 " If I should happen to meet Landry, he might
 
 166 FADETTE 
 
 think that I was watching him, and would let me 
 know that he thought me a nuisance." 
 
 And so it came to pass that, by degrees, his old 
 trouble, which had been almost cured, took such firm 
 and obstinate hold on him, that it soon betrayed 
 itself in his face. His mother reproved him gently, 
 but, as he was ashamed to own that he was as childish 
 at eighteen as he had been three years earlier, he 
 would not confess what was troubling him. 
 
 This saved him from an illness ; for our good Lord 
 never deserts those who try to help themselves, and 
 he who has the courage to keep his troubles to him- 
 self is more able to bear them than he who utters a 
 complaint. The poor twin began to look pale and 
 sad all the time ; he had an occasional attack of 
 fever, and as he was not done growing he continued 
 to be quite slender and delicate. He could not work 
 very steadily, but that was not his fault ; for he knew 
 that work was good for him. It was bad enough to 
 worry his father by his melancholy, he did not 
 want to irritate and wrong him by his listlessness. 
 So he went to work, and worked all the harder be- 
 cause he was out of patience with himself. So he 
 often exceeded his strength, and was so tired the next 
 day that he could not do anything. 
 
 " He will never make a stout worker," said Father 
 Barbeau, " but he does the best he can, and does not 
 spare himself even when he might do so. That 
 is the reason why I do not want to hire him out ; 
 for between his dread of a scolding, and the small
 
 FADETTE 167 
 
 amount of strength which God has given him, he 
 would be sure to kill himself, and I should reproach 
 myself for it the rest of my life." 
 
 Mother Barbeau took the same view of the matter 
 which he did, and tried her best to cheer up Sylvinet. 
 She consulted several doctors in regard to his health, 
 and some of them told her to take great care of him 
 and let him drink nothing but milk, because he 
 was delicate, while others said to keep him at work 
 and give him good wine, because, being delicate, 
 he needed strengthening. Mother Barbeau did not 
 know which to believe, which is always the case 
 when one has too many advisers. 
 
 As she could not come to a decision, she fortu- 
 nately did nothing, and Sylvinet kept on in the way 
 which the good Lord had laid out for him, without 
 meeting anything to turn him either to the right or to 
 the left, and he bore his little cross and did not break 
 down utterly under his trial, up to the time when 
 Landry's love-affair was made public, and Sylvinet's 
 distress was increased by the sight of his brother's 
 suffering:.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 MADELON was the first to discover the secret, and 
 she made a bad use of her knowledge, which she had 
 happened upon quite by accident. She had long ago 
 consoled herself for Landry's desertion, and as she 
 had not wasted much time loving him, it did not take 
 her long to forget him. However, she still bore him 
 a little grudge, which only needed an opportunity to 
 show itself, so true it is that a woman^ pique out- 
 lives her liking. 
 
 This is the way the thing came about. Pretty 
 Madelon, who was celebrated for her discretion and 
 high and mighty airs with boys, was at heart a genu- 
 ine coquette, and not half so faithful and sincere in 
 her attachments as the poor Cricket, of whom every- 
 body spoke and prophesied ill. Madelon had already 
 had two admirers, not counting Landry, and now had 
 her eye on a third, her cousin, the youngest son of 
 Father Caillaud de La Priche. She had taken so 
 great a fancy to him that she consented to accom- 
 pany him to the dove-cote which Landry and little 
 Fadette had used as a trysting-place for their inno- 
 cent love-making. She did not know of any other 
 place where she could have a private interview with 
 her new sweetheart, and feared an outbreak from the 
 1 68
 
 FADETTE 169 
 
 last man she had encouraged, for she was aware that 
 he was watching her. 
 
 Young Caillaud had made a great search for the key 
 of the dove-cote, but without success, as it was still in 
 Landry's pocket ; he had not dared ask anybody for 
 it, because he had no good reasons to give in expla- 
 nation. Nobody but Landry cared anything about 
 the whereabouts of the key, and so young Caillaud, 
 taking it for granted that it must be lost, or that his 
 father had it on his bunch, determined to break in 
 the door. But the day this happened, Landry and 
 Fadette were already there, and the two pairs of 
 lovers felt so silly, when they found themselves face 
 to face, that they were all equally anxious to keep the 
 secret. But Madelon was so angry and jealous when 
 she saw that Landry who was now one of the best- 
 looking and most promising young fellows in the 
 neighborhood had remained faithful to little Fadette 
 ever since St. Andoche's Day, that she resolved to 
 have her revenge. She said nothing about it to 
 young Caillaud, who was an honest man and would 
 not have given her any assistance, but she took into 
 her confidence one or two young girls of her acquaint- 
 ance, who were also rather miffed because Landry 
 never asked them to dance any more, and they kept 
 such close watch on little Fadette that it was not 
 long before they found out all about her intimacy 
 with Landry. 
 
 After seeing them together two or three times, they 
 noised it abroad throughout the neighborhood, telling
 
 170 FADETTE 
 
 everybody who would listen to them and Heaven 
 knows there are always plenty of tongues to spread 
 scandal, and ears to hearken to it that Landry was 
 on very familiar terms with little Fadette. 
 
 Then all the girls took it up ; for when a good- 
 looking youngster with property devotes himself to 
 a young woman, the others regard it as an insult to 
 their charms, and they will miss no opportunity of 
 saying something disagreeable about her. We may 
 add, too, that when women undertake to spread a 
 piece of gossip, it flies like wildfire. 
 
 So, two weeks after the adventure in Jacofs Tower, 
 everybody, little and big, old and young, knew that 
 Landry the twin was in love with Fanchon the Cricket. 
 There was no mention made of the tower, however, or 
 of Madelon, who took good care to keep in the back- 
 ground, and even pretended to be surprised at a piece 
 of news which she herself had been the first to set in 
 circulation. 
 
 The rumor reached the ears of Mother Barbeau, 
 who was much distressed, and hesitated to speak to 
 her husband on the subject. But Father Barbeau 
 heard it from somebody else, and Sylvinet, who had 
 carefully kept his brother's secret, was worried to find 
 out that everybody knew it. 
 
 So one evening when Landry was about to leave 
 the Twinnery rather early, as he was in the habit of 
 doing, his father said to him, in the presence of his 
 mother, his elder sister, and his twin brother : 
 
 " Don't be in such a hurry to leave us, Landry, I
 
 FADETTE 171 
 
 have something to say to you ; I'll wait till your god- 
 father comes, for I want to ask you for an explanation 
 before all those members of the family who are in- 
 terested in your welfare." When the godfather, who 
 was Uncle Landriche, had arrived, Father Barbeau 
 began : 
 
 " What I am about to say will be rather mortifying 
 to you, Landry ; indeed I am myself both sorry and 
 ashamed to be forced to question you before the 
 whole family. But I am in hopes that this mortifica- 
 tion will do you good, and cure you of a fancy which 
 might injure you very much. It seems that you have 
 made an acquaintance dating back to last St. An- 
 doche's Day, nearly a year ago. I was told of it 
 at the time, for it was most extraordinary that you 
 should dance all day with the ugliest, dirtiest, and 
 most disreputable girl in all our part of the country. 
 I thought best to take no notice of it, thinking that 
 you had merely done it by way of amusement ; I did 
 not approve of such behavior, for if it is wrong to 
 associate with bad people, you should never do any- 
 thing to increase their degradation, and expose them 
 to the contempt of everybody. I neglected saying 
 anything to you about it, thinking, when I saw how 
 low-spirited you looked the next day, that you were 
 sorry for what you had done, and would not be likely 
 to do it again. But now, this last week, I hear quite 
 a different story, and although the report comes from 
 reliable people, I shall not believe it unless you 
 acknowledge its truth. If I have wronged you by my
 
 172 FADETTE 
 
 suspicions, you must attribute it to my interest in 
 you, and to the fact that I consider it my duty to keep 
 an eye on you. If the story be false, I shall be glad 
 to take your word for it, and it will be a relief to know 
 that you have been slandered." 
 
 " Father," said Landry, " will you be good enough 
 to tell me of what you accuse me ? I will answer you 
 truthfully and with all due respect." 
 
 " I think I have already told you enough to make 
 you understand, Landry, that you are accused of im- 
 proper relations with the granddaughter of Mother 
 Fadet, who is bad enough, not to speak of the unfor- 
 tunate girl's own mother, who ran away from her 
 husband, her children, and her native place, to be a 
 camp-follower. They say that you wander about 
 everywhere with little Fadette, which makes me fear 
 that she has inveigled you into some disreputable 
 love-affair, which you may regret all your life long. 
 Now, do you understand ? " 
 
 " I understand perfectly, my dear father," answered 
 Landry ; " but allow me to ask you one question before 
 I answer you. Is it on account of her family or only 
 on her own account, that you regard Fanchon Fadet 
 as an undesirable acquaintance for me to have ? " 
 
 " For both reasons, of course," answered Father 
 Barbeau, with rather more severity than he had shown 
 at the beginning of the conversation ; for he had 
 expected to find Landry very humble and penitent, 
 whereas he was perfectly calm and prepared for any- 
 thing. " In the first place," said he, " she comes of
 
 FADETTE 173 
 
 very disreputable stock, and no decent, respectable 
 family like mine would be willing to connect itself 
 with the Fadets. In the next place, nobody has any 
 confidence in little Fadette herself, or any respect 
 for her. We have seen her grow up and we know 
 all about her. They tell me and indeed I have no- 
 ticed it myself two or three times that for the past 
 year she has behaved herself better ; that she has 
 stopped running around with the little boys, and is no 
 longer impudent to everybody she meets. You see 
 that I want to be perfectly just, but that does not 
 prevent my seeing that a child who has had such a 
 bringing up can never make a decent woman, and 
 knowing her grandmother as I do, I have every rea- 
 son to believe that the whole affair is a put-up job to 
 entrap you into making promises which will place you 
 in a very mortifying and embarrassing position. Peo- 
 ple even go so far as to say that the girl is in a deli- 
 cate situation. I am not willing to believe this on 
 mere hearsay, but if it should turn out to be true, you 
 would surely be suspected and it might result in a 
 scandal and a lawsuit." 
 
 Landry, who from the first word had made up his 
 mind to be on his guard and keep his temper, now 
 lost all patience. He turned as red as fire, and said, 
 rising from his seat : 
 
 " Father, the people who told you that, lied like 
 dogs. It is such an outrageous insult to Fanchon 
 Fadet, that if I had them here, I should have made 
 them take back their words, or fight it out with me.
 
 174 FADETTE 
 
 Tell them that they are cowards and heathen, just 
 let them say to my face what they have been mean 
 enough to insinuate to you behind my back, and we'll 
 see how it will turn out." 
 
 " Don't fly into such a rage, Landry," said Sylvinet, 
 in the greatest distress. " Father does not mean to 
 accuse you of ruining the girl ; but he is afraid that 
 she may have been imprudent with others, and now 
 wants to make it appear, by hanging around you all 
 the time, that she has some claim on you."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 His twin brother's voice had a soothing effect on 
 Landry, but he could not allow his words to pass 
 without a reply. 
 
 " Brother," said he, " you don't know anything at 
 all about it. You have always been prejudiced against 
 little Fadette, and you don't know her at all. I care 
 very little for what they say against me, but I will not 
 allow them to talk against her, and I want my father 
 and mother to know that there isn't another girl in 
 the world so modest, so sensible, so good, and so un- 
 selfish as she is. If she is so unfortunate as to have 
 disreputable relatives, she deserves all the more credit 
 for being what she is ; and I would never have be- 
 lieved it possible that Christian people could blame 
 her for her unfortunate birth." 
 
 " You seem to think that I am to blame, Landry," 
 said Father Barbeau, rising too, to show that he did 
 not wish any more words on the subject. " It is very 
 plain to be seen that you are more interested in this 
 Fadette than I could have wished. Since you are 
 neither sorry nor ashamed of what you have done, we 
 will say no more about it. I shall think over what I 
 had better do, to save you from the consequences of 
 175
 
 176 FADETTE 
 
 a piece of youthful folly. And now you had better 
 return to your employer." 
 
 " You must not go off like that," said Sylvinet, de- 
 taining his brother, who was about to leave. " Father, 
 Landry is so sorry for having offended you that he 
 cannot say anything. Forgive him and kiss him, or 
 he will cry all night long, and your displeasure will 
 be a greater punishment than he deserves." 
 
 Sylvinet was crying, Mother Barbeau was crying, 
 too, and so were the elder sister and Uncle Landriche. 
 Nobody's eyes were dry but Father Barbeau's and 
 Landry's ; but their hearts were full, and they kissed 
 each other as the rest of the family begged them to 
 do. The father did not exact any promise from his 
 son, knowing that such promises are very uncertain 
 in an affair of this kind, and not wishing to run any 
 risk of being disobeyed ; but he gave Landry to un- 
 derstand that the matter did not drop there, and that 
 he should take it up again. j 
 
 Landry went away, indignant and distressed. Syl- 
 vinet would have been glad to follow him, but he did 
 not dare do so ; for he took it for granted that his 
 brother would go straight to little Fadette to tell 
 her of his troubles, and he went to bed so down- 
 hearted that he did nothing but sigh all night and 
 dream that some dreadful misfortune had overtaken 
 the family. 
 
 Landry went to little Fadette's and knocked at the 
 door. Mother Fadet had grown so deaf that nothing 
 could waken her, after she had once fallen asleep, and
 
 FADETTE 177 
 
 ever since Landry had found out that his secret was 
 discovered, he could not get a chance to talk to Fan- 
 chon, excepting at night, in the room where the old 
 woman and little Jeanet were sleeping. Even then 
 he ran a great risk ; for the old witch could not bear 
 him, and would have greeted him with more cuffs 
 than pretty speeches. Landry told all his troubles 
 to little Fadette, and found her perfectly resigned 
 and fearless. At first she tried to persuade him 
 that it would be better for him to think no more 
 about her. But when she saw that he grew more 
 and more indignant and distressed, she urged him 
 to submit, telling him that everything would turn 
 out all right. 
 
 " Listen, Landry," said she ; " I have always foreseen 
 what has just happened, and I have often wondered 
 what we should do in such a case as the present. 
 Your father is right and I do not blame him at 
 all ; for it is his affection for you which makes him 
 dread to see you fall in love with a girl like me. 
 I forgive him for his pride and for being rather 
 unjust to me ; for we can't deny that I was as wild 
 as a hawk when I was little, and you yourself gave 
 me a good talking to the day you fell in love with 
 me. Even if I have cured myself of some of my 
 faults the past year, there has not been time enough 
 to inspire your father with confidence in me, as he 
 told you to-day. We must wait awhile longer, and 
 by degrees the prejudice against me will die out, 
 and the wicked lies they are telling will be for- 
 
 N
 
 178 FADETTE 
 
 gotten. Your father and mother will see that I am 
 a decent girl, and that I am not trying to corrupt 
 you or get money out of you. They will do justice 
 to the sincerity of my affection for you, and we 
 shall be able to see and talk to each other, and 
 nobody will object. But meanwhile we must obey 
 your father, who will forbid your visiting me, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " I shall never have the courage to give up seeing 
 you," said Landry ; " I would rather go and throw 
 myself into the river." 
 
 " Then I must have it for you," said Fadette ; " I 
 will go away, I will leave this part of the country 
 for a little while. There is a good place in the 
 city which has been waiting for me for the last two 
 months. My grandmother is getting so old and so 
 deaf that she has almost given up making and sell- 
 ing her medicines, and cannot hold consultations any 
 more. She has a relative a very good woman 
 who has offered to come and live with her, and 
 who will take good care of her and my little Grass- 
 hopper " 
 
 Little Fadette's voice broke down a moment at the 
 thought of leaving this child, whom, next to Landry, 
 she loved better than anything in the world ; but she 
 mustered up courage to go on : 
 
 " He is strong enough now to get along without 
 me. He is going to make his first communion, and 
 he will take so much interest in going to catechism 
 with the other children, that he will forget to grieve
 
 FADETTE 179 
 
 about my going away. You must have noticed how 
 sensible he is getting to be, and that the other boys do 
 not tease him as much as they used to do. Now, Lan- 
 dry, you must see that there is no other way. People 
 must have time to forget me a little, for just now 
 there is a good deal of ill feeling against me in 
 the neighborhood. When I come back again after 
 being away a year or two, and bring good references 
 and an unblemished reputation, which I can gain else- 
 where more easily than I could here, they will stop 
 tormenting us, and we shall be better friends than 
 ever." 
 
 Landry would not listen to this plan ; he was quite 
 overcome with grief, and went back to La Priche in 
 a state of mind which would have moved the hardest 
 heart to pity. 
 
 Two days afterward, as he was taking the tub to the 
 vintage, young Caillaud said to him : 
 
 " I see you are angry with me, Landry, and it is 
 some time since you have spoken to me. You prob- 
 ably think that I spread abroad the report of your 
 love-affair with little Fadette, and I am sorry that you 
 could think me capable of such a piece of meanness. 
 As true as there is a God in heaven, I have never 
 breathed a single word on the subject, and I am 
 really troubled that you should have had so much 
 to worry you ; for I always thought a good deal of 
 you, and I never bothered little Fadette. I'll even 
 say that I respect the girl for what happened at 
 the dove-cote; for she might have gossiped if she
 
 180 FADETTE 
 
 had chosen, and yet she has held her tongue, so that 
 nobody knows anything about it. She might have 
 made use of what she knew, if only to revenge her- 
 self on Madelon ; for she must know well enough 
 who has started all these stories. But she hasn't 
 done it ; and I see, Landry, that it isn't safe to judge 
 people by appearances or reputation. Fadette, who 
 had the name of being a bad girl, has turned out 
 to be very kind-hearted. Madelon, who was con- 
 sidered good, has acted very deceitfully, not only 
 toward Fadette and you, but toward me, too ; for she 
 has given me good reason to doubt her fidelity to me." 
 
 Landry took young Caillaud's explanation in good 
 part, and the latter did his best to comfort him in his 
 trouble. 
 
 " You ' have been very badly treated, my poor 
 Landry," said he, in conclusion ; " but little Fadette's 
 good behavior ought to be a great source of consola- 
 tion to you. It is good of her to go away, so as to 
 put an end to the trouble in your family, and I have 
 just told her so, as I said good-bye to her when she 
 went by." 
 
 " What are you talking about, Caillaud ? " exclaimed 
 Landry. " Is she going away? Has she gone? " 
 
 " Didn't you know it ? " said Caillaud. " I sup- 
 posed that you had settled it between you, and that 
 you did not accompany her for fear of making people 
 talk. But she's going away, that you may depend 
 on. She passed right by our house, not more than a 
 quarter of an hour ago, and she had her little bundle
 
 FADETTE 181 
 
 under her arm. She was going to Chateau Meillant, 
 and she cannot be farther off by this time than 
 Vielle Ville or Ormont Hill." 
 
 Landry left his goad resting against the straw pad 
 of his oxen, started off and never stopped till he 
 caught up with little Fadette, in the sandy road which 
 leads down from the Ormont vineyard to Frenelaine. 
 
 Then, exhausted by grief and the haste with which 
 he had come, he fell down across the pathway, un- 
 able to speak a word, but making signs to her that 
 she must walk over his prostrate body if she wished 
 to get rid of him. When he had somewhat recov- 
 ered, Fadette said to him : 
 
 " I wanted to save you this grief, Landry, and now 
 you are doing all you can to unnerve me. Be a man, 
 and do not break down my spirit ! I have more need 
 of courage than you imagine, and when I think of 
 little Jeanet looking for me and crying after me at 
 this very moment, my strength fails me so that I am 
 ready to dash my head against these stones. Ah, I 
 beg of you, Landry, help me, instead of trying to 
 make me forget my duty ; for if I don't go away 
 to-day, I shall never go, and we shall be ruined." 
 
 " Fanchon, Fanchon! you have no such great need 
 of courage ! " answered Landry, " you are only griev- 
 ing after a child who will soon forget you, as children 
 do. You never give a thought to my despair ; you 
 don't know what love is ; you have no love for me, 
 and you will soon forget me, so perhaps you will 
 never come back again."
 
 182 FADETTE 
 
 "Yes, I shall come back, Landry,--! take God to 
 witness that I shall come back in a year, or at most 
 two years, and I shall be so far from forgetting you, 
 that I shall never have another friend or lover but 
 you." 
 
 " It may be true that you will never have another 
 friend, for you will never find one who will yield to 
 you as I have done ; but I don't know about another 
 lover ; who can be sure of that ? " 
 
 " I can answer for it." 
 
 " You don't know anything about it yourself, 
 Fadette ; you have never loved, and when you do 
 find out what love is, you will think no more of your 
 poor Landry. Ah, if you had only loved me as I 
 love you, you would never leave me like this ! " 
 
 " Do you think so, Landry ? " said little Fadette, 
 looking at him sadly and thoughtfully. " Perhaps you 
 don't know what you are saying. I believe that I should 
 do far more for love than I should for friendship." 
 
 "Ah, well, if you were really actuated by love, I 
 should not feel so distressed. Ah, yes! Fanchon, if 
 I thought you were going away for love's sake, I 
 believe that I should be almost happy, in the midst of 
 all my grief. I should have faith in your promises, 
 and hope for the future. I should be as brave as you 
 are, I should indeed. But it is not love, you 
 have told me so many a time, and your calm behavior 
 toward me has proved the truth of what you say." 
 
 " So you think it is not love ? " said little Fadette, 
 " you are quite sure of that ? "
 
 FADETTE 183 
 
 And as she looked at him, her eyes filled with tears 
 which rolled down her cheeks, and her lips wore a 
 strange smile. 
 
 " Ah, good Lord ! " cried Landry, clasping her in 
 his arms, " if I have made a mistake ! " 
 
 "You have indeed made a mistake," answered 
 little Fadette, between smiles and tears. "I know 
 that ever since she was thirteen years old, poor 
 Cricket has set her heart on Landry and on no one 
 else. I know that when she followed him about the 
 fields and roads, talking nonsense to him, and teasing 
 him to make him take some notice of her, she did not 
 know what she was doing or what it was that drew 
 her to him. I know that when she set out one day 
 to look for Sylvinet, knowing that Landry was in 
 trouble, and found him sitting beside the river, 
 lost in thought, with a little lamb on his lap, she 
 tried a little witchcraft on Landry, so that he might 
 be forced to owe her a debt of gratitude. I know, 
 too, that when she abused him at the Roulettes ford, 
 it was because she was angry and hurt that he had 
 never spoken to her since that day. I know that 
 when she was crying in the Chaumois road, it was 
 because she was sorry for having offended him. I 
 know that when she asked him to dance with her, it 
 was because she was wild about him, and was in 
 hopes of pleasing him by her pretty dancing. I know, 
 too, that when he wanted to kiss her, and she refused, 
 when he made love to her, and she answered him by 
 talking of friendship, it was because she feared to
 
 184 FADETTE 
 
 forfeit his love if she yielded too quickly. In short, I 
 know that if she is breaking her heart by going away, 
 it is in the hope that she may return worthy of him in 
 the opinion of everybody, and fit to be his wife, with- 
 out bringing distress and mortification on his family." 
 When Landry heard this, he thought he should 
 lose his wits altogether. He laughed, he cried, he 
 shouted. He kissed Fanchon's hands, he kissed her 
 dress, he would have kissed her feet, had she allowed 
 him to do so ; but she raised him up and gave him a 
 true love kiss which was almost the death of him, for 
 it was the first he had ever received from her or any 
 one else. He fell, half fainting, by the roadside ; she 
 picked up her bundle, blushing and agitated as she 
 was, and ran off, forbidding him to follow her, and 
 vowing that she would come back again.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 LANDRY submitted, and returned to the vintage, 
 much surprised to find that he was not so unhappy 
 as he had expected to be, for it is very comforting to 
 know that one's love is returned ; and when one's 
 affection is great, one's faith is equally so. He was 
 so surprised and so delighted that he could not help 
 telling young Caillaud, who was also surprised, and 
 admired little Fadette for the prudence she had shown 
 in behaving herself with such strength of mind and 
 dignity, during all the time that Landry and she had 
 been in love with each other. 
 
 " I am glad to see," said he, " that this girl has so 
 much character, for I have never had a bad opinion 
 of her ; and I must acknowledge that if she had ever 
 taken any notice of me, I should have fancied her. 
 She has such fine eyes that I have always thought 
 her more pretty than ugly, and for some time past 
 anybody could see plainly enough that she was get- 
 ting more attractive every day, if she had cared to 
 make herself agreeable. But she cared for nobody 
 but you, Landry, and was satisfied as long as others 
 did not dislike her. She never sought any admira- 
 tion but yours ; and I tell you that is the kind of 
 woman that suits me. I have known her from a 
 185
 
 186 FADETTE 
 
 child, and have always thought her good-hearted ; 
 and, if everybody who knows her should give you 
 his honest opinion, you would find the verdict in her 
 favor. But that's the way of the world ! just let 
 two or three people set after anybody, and all the 
 rest join in the chase, throw stones, and try their 
 best to ruin the person's reputation, and for no rea- 
 son whatever, unless it may be for the pleasure they 
 take in crushing one who is defenceless." 
 
 Landry took great comfort in listening to young 
 Caillaud's moralizing, and from that time on they 
 became warm friends, and it was quite a consolation 
 to be able to talk to him about his woes. So one day 
 Landry said to him, " Don't waste another thought on 
 Madelon, my dear Caillaud. You are no older than 
 I am, and you have plenty of time to think about 
 getting married. Now, I have a little sister Nanette, 
 who is as pretty as a picture, well brought up, sweet- 
 tempered, a real little darling, and she will soon 
 be sixteen. Come and see us a little oftener ! My 
 father thinks a good deal of you, and when you get 
 acquainted with Nanette, you will see that you couldn't 
 do better than to become my brother-in-law." 
 
 "Upon my word, I agree with you !" answered 
 Caillaud ; " and if the girl is not already engaged, I 
 will call at your house every Sunday evening." 
 
 The evening that Fanchon Fadet left, Landry 
 made up his mind to go and tell his father how well 
 the girl had behaved whom he had so misjudged ; 
 and, at the same time, to offer him his submission for
 
 FADETTE 187 
 
 the present, though he would not commit himself 
 for the future. His heart beat fast as he passed 
 Mother Fadet's house ; but he summoned all his 
 courage, thinking to himself that if Fadette had not 
 gone away, it might have been a long time before he 
 could have discovered that he was so fortunate as to 
 have won her heart. And he saw Mother Fanchette, 
 who was Fanchon's relative and godmother, and who 
 had come to take her place in caring for the old 
 woman and the child. She was sitting in the door- 
 way, with the Grasshopper on her lap. Poor Jeanet 
 was crying and did not want to go to bed, because 
 his dear Fanchon had not yet come in, said he, and 
 he wanted her to hear him say his prayers and tuck 
 him in. Mother Fanchette did her best to comfort 
 him, and Landry was glad to hear her speak so kindly 
 and gently to him. But as soon as the Grasshopper 
 caught sight of Landry, he slipped away from Mother 
 Fanchette, at the risk of leaving one of his claws be- 
 hind, and ran and threw his arms around Landry's 
 legs, hugging him and asking him all sorts of ques- 
 tions, and begging him to bring back his dear 
 Fanchon. Landry took him in his arms, and did his 
 best to soothe him, though he could not help shed- 
 ding tears himself. He tried to make him take a 
 bunch of fine grapes which he was carrying to Mother 
 Barbeau from Mother Caillaud, but Jeanet, who was 
 generally greedy enough, would not accept anything, 
 nor obey Mother Fanchette, till Landry promised 
 him, with a sigh, to go and look for his Fanchon.
 
 188 FADETTE 
 
 Father Barbeau was not prepared for this step on 
 the part of Fadette. He was pleased, but could not 
 help regretting the course she had taken ; for he was 
 a just and kind-hearted man. 
 
 " I am sorry, Landry, that you had not the strength 
 of will to give up going to see her. If you had done 
 your duty, she would not have been obliged to leave 
 home. God grant that the poor child may do well 
 in her new position, and that her grandmother and 
 her little brother may not suffer by her absence ; for 
 though there are a good many who speak ill of her, 
 there are some who take her part, and say that she 
 was very kind to her family, and did a great deal for 
 them. We shall soon see whether the ugly stories 
 they tell about her are true or not, and we'll stand up 
 for her as we ought. If, unfortunately, they should 
 turn out to be true, and you, Landry, are the guilty 
 party, we will come to her assistance, and not allow 
 her to suffer. All I ask of you, Landry, is that you 
 will never marry her." 
 
 " Father," said Landry, " you and I do not take 
 the same view of the matter. If I were guilty of the 
 offence to which you allude, I should, on the contrary, 
 ask your permission to marry her. But as little 
 Fadette is as innocent as my sister Nanette, I only 
 ask you to forgive me now for giving you so much 
 trouble. We will talk about her later on, as you 
 promised me." 
 
 Father Barbeau was obliged to yield to these con- 
 ditions, and let the subject drop for the present. He
 
 FADETTE 189 
 
 was too prudent to attempt to hurry up matters, and 
 so was forced to rest content with the progress he 
 had made. 
 
 From that time on, nothing was said about Fadette 
 at the Twinnery ; for Landry turned red and then pale 
 when anybody happened to mention her name in his 
 presence, and it was easy enough to see that he was 
 as fond of her as ever.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 AT first Sylvinet was selfish enough to feel glad 
 that Fadette had gone away, and flattered himself that 
 now Landry would care for nobody but him, and 
 that nobody would ever again take his place. But 
 this did not turn out to be the case. Landry cer- 
 tainly loved Sylvinet better than anybody in the 
 world after Fanchon, but he could not long be happy 
 in his society ; for Sylvinet would not make an effort 
 to overcome his dislike to Fanchon. As soon as 
 Landry began to talk to him about her, and tried to 
 win him over to her side, Sylvinet became very 
 much agitated, and reproached him because he per- 
 sisted in worrying his father and mother and dis- 
 tressing him. So Landry said no more to him about 
 it, but as he felt as if he must talk to some one, he 
 divided his time between young Caillaud and little 
 Jeanet. He took the child out walking with him, and 
 heard his catechism, and taught him and comforted 
 him as well as he could. 
 
 When people met him with the child, they would 
 have ridiculed him had they dared. But in addition 
 to the fact that Landry never allowed anybody to 
 ridicule him on any subject, he was more proud than 
 ashamed of his championship of Fancho'n Fadet's 
 190
 
 FADETTE 191 
 
 brother, and this was his way of answering those who 
 insisted that Father Barbeau had been clever enough 
 to put an end to his love-affair in short order. Syl- 
 vine.t found that his brother was still somewhat 
 alienated from him, and was jealous of both young 
 Caillaud and little Jeanet. He saw also that his 
 sister Nanette, who had all along comforted and 
 cheered him with her tender caresses and loving ways, 
 was beginning to take pleasure in the society of 
 young Caillaud, whose attention met with the approval 
 of both families. Poor Sylvinet, who wished to 
 reign supreme in the affections of those whom he 
 loved, became strangely languid and melancholy, and 
 so gloomy and low-spirited that nothing could rouse 
 him. He no longer laughed, he took no interest in 
 anything ; he had grown so weak and feeble that he 
 was hardly able to work. At last they began to be 
 alarmed about him, for his fever was almost incessant ; 
 and when it was a little higher than usual, he was 
 flighty in his talk and wounded his parents' feelings. 
 He insisted that nobody loved him, though he had 
 been more spoiled and petted than any member of 
 the family. He wished that he could die, and said 
 that he was of no use to anybody ; that his friends 
 treated him kindly, because they pitied him, but 
 that he was a burden to his parents, and it would be 
 a great mercy to them if God would take him away. 
 
 Sometimes Father Barbeau reproved the boy 
 severely when he heard him talk in such an un- 
 christian way, but it did no good. Then Father
 
 192 FADETTE 
 
 Barbeau would entreat him, with tears, to believe 
 that he loved him. This was worse still. Sylvinet 
 cried, repented, and asked forgiveness of his father, 
 his mother, his twin brother, and the whole family ; 
 but the fever always came back with renewed force, 
 from having given way to his morbid feelings. 
 
 They consulted the doctors again. They had not 
 much advice to give, but seemed to think that all 
 the trouble arose from the fact that he was a twin, 
 and that one or the other of them probably the 
 weaker one would certainly die. So they consulted 
 the bath woman at Clavieres, who was the best nurse 
 in the district, now that Mother Sagette was dead 
 and Mother Fadet was getting childish. This clever 
 woman told Mother Barbeau : 
 
 " The only thing which can save your child, is 
 falling in love with some girl." 
 
 " And he can't bear girls," said Mother Barbeau ; 
 " I have never seen a boy so shy and retiring, and 
 from the time that his twin brother took it into 
 his head to fall in love, Sylvinet hasn't had a good 
 word for any girl of our acquaintance. He abuses 
 them all, because one of them and, unfortunately, 
 not one of the best stole his brother's heart away 
 from him." 
 
 " Well," said the nurse, who was very skilful in dis- 
 eases of both mind and body, " when your son Sylvi- 
 net does fall in love with a woman, he will love her 
 much more warmly than he does his brother. Mark 
 my words. His heart is too full of love, and as he
 
 FADETTE 193 
 
 has always bestowed it all on his brother, he has 
 almost forgotten his sex, and has thus sinned against 
 the law of God, which ordains that a man should 
 cherish his wife more than father or mother, sister 
 or brother. But cheer up! He must soon listen to 
 the voice of nature, however backward he may be. 
 Don't refuse to let him marry the woman whom he 
 may fancy, no matter how poor and ugly and dis- 
 agreeable she may be ; for, as far as I can judge, he 
 will love but once. His heart is too faithful ever to 
 change, and if it requires a great miracle of nature to 
 wean him from his twin, it must be a still greater one 
 to make him forget the woman whom he may come 
 to love even more than he does his brother." 
 
 Father Barbeau was much impressed by the opinion 
 of the nurse, and he tried to get Sylvinet to visit at 
 those houses where there were good and pretty girls 
 of marriageable age. But, though Sylvinet was a 
 handsome young fellow, and had pleasant manners, 
 he looked so sad and so indifferent that the girls did 
 not fancy him. They would not make any advances 
 to him, and he was so shy that he imagined that he 
 hated them, when, in fact, he was only afraid of them. 
 
 Father Caillaud, who was the most intimate friend 
 and adviser of the family, then had another piece of 
 advice to offer. 
 
 " I have always told you," said he, " that absence is 
 the best cure. Just look at Landry! He was dis- 
 tracted about little Fadette, and now that she has gone 
 away, he is none the worse in mind or body ; he 
 o
 
 194 FADETTE 
 
 doesn't even seem as sad as he used to be, for we 
 noticed how he looked, and wondered what could 
 be the matter. Now he seems quite sensible and 
 resigned. It would be the same with Sylvinet, if he 
 did not see his brother for five or six months. I'll 
 tell you how you can separate them without making 
 any trouble. My La Priche farm is doing well, but the 
 property which I own over toward Arton is in very poor 
 condition ; for my tenant has been ill for about a year 
 and doesn't get any better. I don't want to turn him 
 out, for he is an honest man ; but if I could send him 
 a good assistant he would soon improve, for there is 
 nothing the matter with him but hard work and 
 anxiety. If you are agreed, I will send Landry over 
 to spend the rest of the season on my property. We 
 needn't let Sylvinet know how long he will be gone. 
 On the contrary, we will tell him that Landry will be 
 gone a week. Then after a week has passed, we'll 
 say that he will be gone another week, and so 
 on, till he gets accustomed to being separated from 
 him. Now just follow my advice, instead of humor- 
 ing the whims of a spoiled child who has got the 
 upper hand of you." 
 
 Father Barbeau was disposed to follow this advice, 
 but Mother Barbeau was afraid. It seemed to her 
 that it would be a death-blow to Sylvinet. So they 
 agreed to make a compromise ; she begged that 
 Landry might first be kept at home for a fortnight, to 
 see if his brother would not get well by having him 
 with him all the time. But if Sylvinet got worse,
 
 FADETTE 195 
 
 she would consent to take the advice of Father 
 Caillaud. 
 
 And so Landry came to stay the allotted time at 
 the Twinnery, greatly to his satisfaction, and 
 they made an excuse that his father needed him 
 to help finish threshing the wheat, as Sylvinet was no 
 longer able to help him work. Landry was as kind 
 as possible to his brother, and did his best to please 
 him. He stayed with him continually ; he slept in 
 the same bed ; he took care of him as if he had been 
 a little child. The first day Syivinet was in very 
 good spirits, but the second he took it into his head 
 that Landry was tired of him, and Landry could not 
 make him believe otherwise. The third day Sylvi- 
 net got angry because the Grasshopper came to see 
 Landry, and Landry had not the heart to send him 
 away. Finally, at the end of the week, they had to 
 give it up; for Sylvinet became more and more un- 
 reasonable and exacting, and was jealous of his own 
 shadow. Then they determined to try Father Cail- 
 laud's plan, and though Landry, who was so fond of 
 his native place, his work, his family, and that of his 
 employer, did not at all fancy going to Arton among 
 strangers, he was perfectly willing to do what they 
 proposed with the hope of benefiting his brother.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE first day Sylvinet nearly died, but the second 
 he was calmer, and the third the fever had left him. 
 First, he became resigned, then he mustered up a 
 little spirit, and by the time the first week had passed, 
 it was plain to be seen that his brother's absence had 
 done him good. A secret feeling of jealousy sug- 
 gested a reason for being almost glad that Landry had 
 gone away. "At any rate," thought he, "he doesn't 
 know anybody over there, and he can't make new 
 friends at once. He will be a little homesick, and 
 he'll think of me, and wish he could see me. When 
 he comes back, he'll love me better than ever." 
 
 Landry had been gone about three months, and 
 little Fadette almost a year, when she unexpectedly 
 returned, because her grandmother had had a stroke 
 of paralysis. She nursed her carefully and tenderly, 
 but age is an incurable disease, and in about a fort- 
 night Mother Fadet suddenly died. Three days 
 afterward, little Fadette, having buried the poor old 
 woman, put the house in order, undressed her little 
 brother and put him to bed, and kissed her godmother, 
 who had retired to rest in another room, sat sadly 
 enough beside her little fire, which threw out but little 
 196
 
 FADETTE 197 
 
 light, and listened to the cricket on the hearth, which 
 seemed to say to her : 
 
 " Fay, fay, my little fay, 
 Take thy torch and haste away ; 
 Here's my cap and here's my cloak, 
 And here's a mate for fairy folk." 
 
 The rain pattered against the window-pane, freez- 
 ing as it fell, and Fanchon was thinking of her lover, 
 when there came a knock at the door and a voice 
 said: 
 
 " Fanchon Fadet, are you there, and do you recog- 
 nize me?" 
 
 It did not take her long to open the door, and great 
 was her delight to find herself in Landry's arms. He 
 had heard of her grandmother's illness and her own 
 return. He could not resist the temptation to come 
 and see her, and he came at night, intending to go 
 away at daybreak. So they spent the night talking 
 at the fireside, but very soberly and seriously ; for little 
 Fadette reminded Landry that the bed on which her 
 grandmother had died was scarcely cold yet, and it 
 was neither the time nor the place to give themselves 
 up to their own delight at seeing each other once 
 more. But still, in spite of their good resolutions, 
 they could not help feeling very happy to be together 
 again, and to assure themselves that they loved each 
 other more than ever. As the day began to dawn, 
 however, Landry's courage failed him, and he begged 
 Fanchon to hide him in her garret so that he might see
 
 198 FADETTE 
 
 her again the next night. But, as usual, she brought 
 him to his senses. She told him that they would not 
 be separated much longer, for she had made up her 
 mind to remain at home. 
 
 " I have my reasons for that, which I will tell you 
 later," said she, " and which shall not stand in the 
 way of our marrying some day. Go and finish the 
 work which your master has given you to do ; for, from 
 what my godmother tells me, it is necessary for your 
 brother's recovery that he should not see you for 
 some time to come." 
 
 " That is the only reason which could induce me to 
 leave you," answered Landry ; " for my poor twin has 
 caused me a good deal of anxiety, and I am afraid 
 that I shall still suffer on his account. You are so 
 clever, Fanchonette, you ought to be able to think of 
 some way of curing him." 
 
 " I don't know any other way than to reason with 
 him," answered she ; " for it is his mind which is in- 
 juring his body, and whoever could cure one, would 
 cure the other. But he has such a dislike to me that 
 I shall never have an opportunity to talk to him, and 
 try to comfort him.'" 
 
 " But you are so clever, Fadette, you talk so well, 
 and you have such a talent for persuading anybody to 
 think just what you please, when you choose to take 
 the trouble, that if you could only talk to him one 
 hour, it would have an effect on him. Try it, I beg of 
 you! Don't mind his pride and ill humor! Make 
 him listen to you. Make this effort for my sake, my
 
 FADETTE 199 
 
 dear Fanchon, and for the sake of our love also; 
 for my brother's opposition is not the least of our 
 troubles." 
 
 So Fanchon gave him her promise, and they parted, 
 after mutual assurances of love and fidelity.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 NOBODY in the neighborhood knew that Landry 
 had been home. If Sylvinet had happened to hear 
 of it, he would have fallen ill again, and would never 
 have forgiven Landry for coming to see Fadette and 
 not himself. 
 
 Two days afterward, little Fadette dressed herself 
 very neatly ; for she was no longer penniless, and 
 her mourning gown was of fine serge. She walked 
 through La Cosse, and as she had grown a great deal, 
 those who saw her pass did not at first recognize 
 her. She had grown to be much better looking 
 while she had been away in the city. Good food 
 and lodging had improved her complexion, and she 
 was as plump as a girl of her age ought to be, and 
 there was no longer any danger of her being mistaken 
 for a boy in disguise ; for she had a very pretty, graceful 
 figure. Love had given her whole person that inde- 
 scribable charm which nobody can fail to remark. 
 In short, if she were not the prettiest girl in the 
 world, as Landry imagined her to be, she was the 
 most winning and the freshest girl in the neighbor- 
 hood, and had the most attractive face and figure. 
 
 She had a basket on her arm, and she stopped at 
 the Twinnery, where she asked to see Father Bar- 
 200
 
 FADETTE 201 
 
 beau. Sylvinet was the first to see her, and he was 
 so annoyed at meeting her that he turned his back. 
 But she asked him so politely where his father was, 
 that he was obliged to answer her, and take her to 
 the barn, where Father Barbeau was busy at some 
 carpentering work. Fadette having asked to see 
 him alone, so that she might have a private conversa- 
 tion with him, he shut the barn door, and told her 
 that he was ready to hear what she had to say to 
 him. 
 
 Little Fadette did not allow herself to be discour- 
 aged by Father Barbeau's coldness. She seated 
 herself on a bundle of straw, he sat down on another, 
 and she began: 
 
 "Father Barbeau, though my grandmother, who is 
 dead and gone, had a great dislike to you, and you 
 have a grudge against me, it is nevertheless true that 
 I have always known that you are the most honorable 
 and upright man in this part of the country. There 
 are no two opinions on that subject, and my grand- 
 mother herself, while she accused you of being proud, 
 did you that justice. Besides that, your son Lan- 
 dry and I have been friends a long time, as you 
 know. He has often talked to me about you, and I 
 know from him. even better than from others, what a 
 good man you are. That is the reason I have come 
 to ask a favor of you, and to take you into my con- 
 fidence." 
 
 " Go on, Fadette," said Father Barbeau ; " I have 
 never yet refused to help anybody, and if it is any-
 
 202 FADETTE 
 
 thing which my conscience does not forbid, you may 
 rely upon my doing what I can for you." 
 
 " It is this," said Fadette, lifting her basket, and 
 setting it down at Father Barbeau's feet. " My grand- 
 mother, when she was alive, earned more money 
 than you would suppose possible by giving advice and 
 by the sale of her remedies, and, as she hardly spent 
 anything, and never made any investments, of course 
 nobody suspected what she had in an old hole in 
 her cellar, which she often pointed out to me, and 
 said: 
 
 " After I am gone, you will find in there all that 1 
 have to leave you. It belongs to you and your 
 brother, and if you are a little pinched now, you will 
 be all the richer some day or other. But don't let 
 the lawyers get hold of it, for they'd eat it all up in 
 costs. Keep it when you get it, hide it away as 
 long as you live, so that you may not come to want 
 in your old age. 
 
 " After my poor grandmother was buried, I did as 
 she had told me. I took the key of the cellar and 
 pried out the bricks of the wall, just where she had 
 showed me. There I found what I have brought you 
 in this basket, Father Barbeau, and I beg of you to 
 invest it as you see fit, after doing whatever the law 
 may demand, and avoiding the heavy expenses of 
 which I am afraid." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you for the confidence you 
 have expressed in me, Fadette," said Father Barbeau, 
 without looking into the basket, though he felt con-
 
 FADETTE 203 
 
 siderable curiosity as to its contents ; " but I have no 
 right to take charge of your money, or to manage your 
 affairs. I am not your guardian. Your grandmother 
 must have left a will." 
 
 " She did not leave a will, but my mother is my 
 legal guardian. Now, you know it is a long time 
 since I have heard anything about her, and I don't 
 know whether she is dead or alive, poor thing. My 
 nearest relative after her, is my godmother Fanchette, 
 who is a good, honest woman, but quite incapable of 
 managing my property, or even indeed of keeping 
 it safely locked up. She would be sure to talk 
 about it and show it to everybody, and I should be 
 afraid that she would make poor investments, or that 
 by allowing so many inquisitive people to handle it, a 
 good deal of it might be taken without her knowledge. 
 My poor, dear godmother doesn't even know how to 
 count it." 
 
 " So it is a considerable sum ? " asked Father Bar- 
 beau, his eyes fastened, in spite of himself, on the 
 cover of the basket. He lifted it by the handle to 
 ascertain its weight. He was amazed to find it so 
 heavy, and said, " If it is in small coin, a load for a 
 horse wouldn't amount to much." 
 
 Little Fadette, who had a keen sense of humor, was 
 much amused at his evident curiosity about the con- 
 tents of the basket. She made a motion as if to open 
 it, but Father Barbeau considered it beneath his dig- 
 nity to allow her to do so. 
 
 " It is none of my business," said he, " and as I
 
 204 FADETTE 
 
 can't take charge of your money, I have no right to 
 know anything about your affairs. 1 ' 
 
 " But, Father Barbeau, you will, at least, do me this 
 one little service ! I can't count above a hundred 
 much better than my godmother. Besides, 1 don't 
 know the value of all the coins, old and new, and you 
 are the only one I can trust to tell me whether I am 
 rich or poor, and to give me the exact amount of my 
 property." 
 
 " Well, let's see, then," said Father Barbeau, who 
 could hold out no longer. " That's no great favor to 
 ask, and I ought not to refuse you." 
 
 Then Fadette quickly raised the two lids of the 
 basket, and took out two big bags, each of which 
 contained two thousand francs in crown pieces. 
 
 " Well, that's very nice," said Father Barbeau ; 
 " there is a little dowry, which will bring you a suitor 
 or two. 1 ' 
 
 "That isn't all," said Fadette ; " there is some more 
 at the bottom of the basket, though I don't know how 
 much it is." 
 
 And she drew out an eel-skin purse, which she 
 emptied into Father Barbeau's hat. There were a hun- 
 dred gold louis, evidently old coins, which made 
 the honest man open his eyes. When he had counted 
 them, and put them back in the eel skin, she took out 
 another just like it, and then a third, and a fourth, 
 and finally, in gold, silver, and small coin, there was 
 not much less than forty thousand francs in the 
 basket.
 
 FADETTE 205 
 
 That was about one-third more than the value of 
 all Father Barbeau's buildings, and, as country people 
 never have much ready money, he had never seen so 
 large a sum in his life. 
 
 However honest and disinterested a peasant may 
 be, nobody can say of him that he hates the sight of 
 money, and so Father Barbeau felt the drops of per- 
 spiration start out on his forehead, for a moment. 
 
 When he had done counting, he said : 
 
 " You lack only twenty-two crowns of having forty 
 thousand francs, and your share of the property is 
 about two thousand pistoles in ready money. That 
 makes you the greatest heiress in these parts, Fa- 
 dette, and your brother, the Grasshopper, may stay 
 lame and sickly all his life ; he can take a carriage to 
 look after his property. You may consider yourself 
 fortunate ; for you need only let it be known that you 
 are rich if you want to get a good husband." 
 
 " I am in no hurry," said Fadette, " and I must beg 
 you, on the contrary, not to let anybody know how 
 rich I am, Father Barbeau. Ugly as I am, I don't 
 want to be married for my money, but for my good 
 heart and my fair name. And as I have had a bad 
 reputation in this part of the country, I mean to stay 
 here some time, to prove that I don't deserve it." 
 
 "As for your ugliness, Fadette," said Father Bar- 
 beau, raising his eyes, which had been fastened on 
 the basket, " I can tell you, in sober earnest, that you 
 have got bravely over it, and have improved so much 
 since you went to the city that you will pass for a
 
 206 FADETTE 
 
 very nice-looking girl nowadays. And as for your 
 bad name, if, as I hope is the case, you do not deserve 
 it, I approve of your idea of waiting awhile before you 
 let it be known that you are rich ; for there are plenty 
 of men who would want to marry you for your money, 
 without feeling for you the regard which a woman 
 should demand from her husband. 
 
 " Now as for the money which you wish to deposit 
 with me, it would be contrary to law for me to take it, 
 and might expose me, later on, to false suspicions 
 and accusations ; for there are plenty of scandal-mon- 
 gers about. Besides, supposing you had a right to 
 dispose of what belongs to you, you have no author- 
 ity over the property of your brother, who is a minor. 
 All that I can do will be to ask advice for you, with- 
 out mentioning your name. Then I will let you 
 know how to invest your legacy and your brother's, 
 so that it will be safe, without letting it fall into the 
 hands of pettifoggers, who are not all to be trusted. 
 Take it air away, then, and hide it again till I can 
 give you an answer. I place myself at your disposal 
 if you need me, to testify before the attorneys of your 
 co-heir, as to the amount of the sum which we have 
 just been counting, and which I am going to write 
 down in the corner of my barn, so that I shall not 
 forget it." 
 
 All that Fadette wanted was that Father Barbeau 
 should know just how matters stood. If she was 
 rather glad to let him know that she was rich, it was 
 only because now he could no longer accuse her of 
 setting her cap for Landry.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 FATHER BARBEAU, seeing how prudent and clever 
 she was, was not in such haste to deposit and invest 
 her money, as he was to make inquiries as to the 
 reputation she had borne at Chateau Meillant, where 
 she had spent the year of her absence. Though her 
 large dowry was very tempting, and made him feel 
 inclined to overlook her unfortunate connections, it 
 was quite a different matter when the honor of the 
 girl he hoped to call his daughter-in-law was in ques- 
 tion. So he went in person to Chateau Meillant, and 
 instituted the strictest inquiries. He learned not 
 only that it was false that Fadette had gone there to 
 give birth to a child, but also that she had conducted 
 herself so well that there was absolutely nothing to 
 be said to her disadvantage. She had been in the 
 service of a nun of noble family, who had taken pleas- 
 ure in making a companion of her, instead of a ser- 
 vant, having found her so well-behaved, so sensible, 
 and so well-mannered. She regretted losing her, and 
 said that she was a lovely Christian character, frank, 
 neat, careful, and so amiable in disposition that she 
 never expected to find another like her. 
 
 As this old lady was quite wealthy, she was inter- 
 ested in many charities, and Fadette had been of 
 207
 
 208 FADETTE 
 
 great service to her in caring for the sick and in com- 
 pounding medicines, and her mistress had taught 
 her how to prepare several valuable secret remedies, 
 which she herself had learned in her convent before 
 the Revolution. 
 
 Father Barbeau was much pleased, and he came 
 back to La Cosse determined to sift the matter to the 
 bottom. He called his family together and charged 
 his older children, his brothers, and all his relatives, 
 to inquire closely into Fadette's mode of life since 
 she had arrived at years of discretion, so that, if all 
 the gossip about her had arisen merely from some 
 childish piece of folly, they might set it at naught ; 
 but if, on the contrary, anybody could claim to have 
 seen her commit an actual misdemeanor or knew her 
 to be guilty of any act of impropriety, he should 
 enforce his order that Landry should have nothing 
 further to do with her. The investigation was con- 
 ducted with great prudence, as he had desired, and 
 there was no mention made of the dowry ; for he had 
 not even told his wife about that. 
 
 All this time, Fadette was living a very retired life 
 in her little house, which remained unchanged, ex- 
 cepting that it was kept so clean that you could have 
 seen your face in the simple furniture. 
 
 She dressed her little Grasshopper neatly, and made 
 by degrees so great a change for the better in their 
 food, that the effect was soon apparent on the child : 
 his health improved greatly, and he soon became as 
 healthy as one could wish. His disposition altered
 
 FADETTE 209 
 
 under the influence of happiness, and now that his 
 grandmother was no longer there to threaten him, 
 and nag at him, and as he met with nothing but 
 caresses, kind words, and good treatment, he grew to 
 be a nice little boy, full of quaint and pretty fancies, 
 so that nobody could think of disliking him, in spite 
 of his limp and his little snub nose. 
 
 In addition to that, there was so marked a change 
 in the person and habits of Fanchon Fadet, that all 
 the ugly stories about her were forgotten, and more 
 than one young fellow, as he saw her pass by with 
 her light step and graceful carriage, wished that her 
 mourning were at an end, so that he might pay court 
 to her, and invite her to dance. 
 
 Sylvinet Barbeau was the only one who still ad- 
 hered to his former opinion of her. He saw plainly 
 enough that there was something brewing in his family 
 with regard to her, for his father could not resist 
 speaking of her now and then, and whenever some 
 old lie about her was proved to be false, he congratu- 
 lated himself on Landry's account, saying that he 
 could not bear to have his son accused of ruining an 
 innocent young girl. 
 
 Landry's approaching return began also to be 
 talked about, and Father Barbeau seemed to be 
 anxious that Father Caillaud should agree to it. At 
 last Sylvinet saw that all opposition to Landry's love- 
 affair was about to be withdrawn, and he became as 
 wretched as ever. Public opinion, which varies with 
 the wind, had for some time past been in favor of 
 p
 
 210 FADETTE 
 
 Fadette ; nobody knew that she was rich, but she 
 made friends, and for that very reason Sylvinet dis- 
 liked her all the more, for she seemed to him to be a 
 rival in Landry's affections. 
 
 Once in a while Father Barbeau let slip in his 
 presence a word about marriage, saying that the 
 twins would soon be old enough to be thinking of 
 settling themselves. Sylvinet had never been able to 
 think of Landry's getting married without the great- 
 est distress, and it seemed to him as if it would be a 
 death-blow to their affection and companionship. His 
 fever returned, and his mother sent for the doctors 
 once more. 
 
 One day she met Mother Fanchette, who, hearing 
 how anxious she was, asked her why she sent so far 
 for advice and spent so much money, when she had 
 at her very door a more skilful doctress than any in 
 the country, one who did not wish to practise for 
 money as her grandmother had done, but only for 
 the love of God and of her neighbor. Then she 
 mentioned little Fadette. 
 
 Mother Barbeau spoke of it to her husband, who 
 made no objection. He told her that Fadette had a 
 great reputation in Chateau Meillant for her skill in 
 healing, and that people came from far and near to 
 consult her and her mistress. 
 
 So Mother Barbeau begged Fadette to come and 
 see Sylvinet, who was now ill in bed, and requested 
 her to do what she could for him. 
 
 Fanchon had more than once tried to find an
 
 FADETTE 211 
 
 opportunity of speaking to him, in accordance with her 
 promise to Landry, but he had always avoided her. 
 
 So she did not wait to be urged, but went at once to 
 see the poor twin. She found him in a feverish sleep, 
 and asked to be left alone with him. As it is customary 
 for doctresses to work their cures in secret, there was 
 no objection made, and nobody remained in the room. 
 
 The first thing Fadette did was to lay her hand on 
 his, which rested on the edge of the bed. She did 
 it so gently, however, that he was not aware of it, 
 though his sleep was so light that he woke if a fly 
 buzzed in the room. Sylvinet's hand was hot as fire, 
 and it became hotter still as little Fadette continued 
 to hold it in hers. He seemed agitated, but did not 
 try to withdraw his hand. Then Fadette placed her 
 other hand on his forehead, as gently as before, and 
 he became still more restless. But, little by little, he 
 calmed down, and she could feel her patient's head 
 and hand grow cooler from minute to minute ; he was 
 soon sleeping as quietly as a little child. She re- 
 mained beside him till she saw that he was about to 
 wake, and then she slipped behind his curtain, and 
 left the room and the house, saying to Mother Bar- 
 beau, as she passed : 
 
 " Go and see your son, and give him something to 
 eat, for his fever is gone ; and above everything, don't 
 talk to him about me, if you want me to cure him. I 
 will come back this evening, at the hour when you 
 say his disease is at its height, and I will try to break 
 this raging fever again. 1 '
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 MOTHER BARBEAU was much astonished to see 
 Sylvinet free from fever, and she hastened to give him 
 something to eat, which he took with some appetite. 
 As his fever had lasted six days without a break, and 
 he had not been able to take anything, the family 
 were enthusiastic over Fadette's skill ; for, without 
 waking him up or giving him anything to drink, she 
 had already benefited him so much, solely by the aid 
 of her spells, or so it seemed to them. 
 
 Toward evening, the fever returned, and his tem- 
 perature was very high. Sylvinet was dozing and his 
 mind was wandering, and when he woke, he was 
 afraid of those who stood around his bed. 
 
 Fadette came again, and, as in the morning, re- 
 mained alone with him for nearly an hour, and the 
 only magic she used was to hold his hands and head 
 in a soft clasp, and to breathe on his hot cheeks with 
 her cool, fresh breath. 
 
 His fever and delirium vanished as in the morning, 
 and when she left, still requesting that he should not 
 be told that she had been there, they found him 
 sleeping quietly, his face no longer flushed, and 
 apparently completely restored to health. I do not 
 know where Fadette had picked up this idea. She had 
 
 212
 
 FADETTE 213 
 
 found out, partly by chance and partly by experience, 
 that when her little brother Jeanet was at the point 
 of death she had been able to relieve him a dozen 
 times or more, by simply cooling him with her hands 
 and breath, and warming him in the same way, when 
 the burning fever was preceded by chills. She be- 
 lieved that the affection and good-will of a person in 
 sound health, and the laying on of a hand, full of 
 vitality and free from any taint of sin, has power to 
 banish disease, provided that the said person is en- 
 dowed with a certain temperament, and has a firm 
 faith in God's goodness. She engaged in silent 
 prayer while her hands rested on the patient. This 
 treatment which she was now trying on Sylvinet, 
 and which was the same she had given her little 
 brother she would not have been willing to admin- 
 ister to any one in whom she was not greatly inter- 
 ested ; for she believed that its chief efficacy lay in 
 the love in her heart, which she offered as a sacrifice 
 to the Lord, and without which He would not have 
 granted her power to relieve the patient. 
 
 And so, while Fadette was charming away Sylvi- 
 nefs fever, she repeated the same prayer which she 
 had made beside her sick brother. " O God, let my 
 health pass out of my body into this suffering body, 
 and as our dear Saviour offered up His life to redeem 
 the souls of all mankind, if it be Thy will to take away 
 my life and bestow it upon this sick person, I give it 
 into Thy hands. I gladly yield it in exchange for the 
 recovery of him for whom I am praying."
 
 214 FADETTE 
 
 Little Fadette had thought of making this prayer at 
 her grandmother's deathbed, but she did not venture ; 
 for it seemed to her that the old woman's life was dy- 
 ing out in body and soul, as the result of old age, and 
 in accordance with that natural law which God Him- 
 self has established. So Fadette, who, as you see, 
 trusted more to piety than to witchcraft in working 
 her charms, feared to displease Him, by asking for 
 anything which He grants to other Christians only 
 as a special miracle. Whether the remedy had any 
 special virtue of its own or not, one thing is certain, in 
 three days Sylvinet had recovered from his fever, and 
 would never have known how his cure was brought 
 about, if, on her last visit, he had not happened to 
 wake a little sooner than usual, and caught sight of 
 her bending over him, and softly withdrawing her 
 hands. At first he thought that it was a vision, and 
 closed his eyes to avoid the sight of her. But after- 
 wards when he asked his mother whether Fadette had 
 not held his hand and felt his pulse, Mother Barbeau, 
 to whom her husband had at last given a hint of his 
 plans, and who was anxious that Sylvinet should over- 
 come his dislike to Fanchon, answered that she had 
 been there every morning and evening for the last 
 three days, and, by some secret process, had broken 
 his fever in the most miraculous way. 
 
 Sylvinet did not seem to believe what she said. 
 He said that the fever had left him of its own accord, 
 and that Fadette's spells and incantations were all 
 silly nonsense. He improved so much in the course
 
 FADETTE 215 
 
 of the next few days that Father Barbeau thought 
 best to speak to him as to the possibility of his 
 brother's marriage, but without mentioning the name 
 of the wife he had in view for him. 
 
 "You need not hide the name of the bride you 
 intend to give him," answered Sylvinet. " I know 
 well enough that it is Fadette, who has cast a spell 
 over you all." 
 
 In fact, Father Barbeau's private inquiries into 
 Fadette's character had resulted so much to her 
 advantage, that he no longer hesitated, and was quite 
 eager to send for Landry to come home. The only 
 fear he now had was the jealousy of his twin brother, 
 and he tried to cure him of this weakness by telling 
 him that his brother would never be happy without 
 Fadette. But Sylvinet answered, "Do just as you 
 think best; my brother must be happy, whatever 
 happens ! " 
 
 But they did not dare take any steps in the matter 
 as yet; for Sylvinet's fever returned as soon as he 
 seemed to have given up his opposition.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 FATHER BARBEAU, however, was afraid that Fadette 
 might cherish some resentment against him for his 
 past injustice, and that having become accustomed to 
 Landry's absence, she might have taken up with some 
 other admirer. When she came to the Twinnery to 
 look after Sylvinet, he had tried to speak to her about 
 Landry, but she pretended not to understand him, 
 and he was quite puzzled as to what course to take. 
 
 At last, one morning, he made up his mind to go 
 and see Fadette. 
 
 "Fanchon Fadet," said he, "I have come to ask 
 you a question, and I beg you to answer me honestly 
 and truly. Had you any idea before your grand- 
 mother's death that she would leave you so much 
 property? " 
 
 " Yes, Father Barbeau," answered Fadette, " I had 
 some idea of it ; for I had often seen her counting 
 gold and silver, and I never saw her spend anything 
 but copper, and also because she often said to me 
 when the other girls made fun of my rags, ' Don't 
 you worry about that, little one, you will have more 
 money than any of them some day, and you can dress 
 yourself in silk from head to foot if you choose to do 
 so." 
 
 216
 
 FADETTE 217 
 
 " As far as I am concerned, Father Barbeau," said 
 Fadette, "as I always wanted to be loved for the 
 sake of my fine eyes, which is the only beauty I am 
 supposed to possess, I was not so silly as to tell Lan- 
 dry that all my charms were tied up in eel-skin bags, 
 and yet I might have ventured to let him know ; for 
 Landry's love is so true and so devoted that it would 
 have made no difference to him whether I was rich 
 or poor." 
 
 " And since your grandmother's death, dear Fan- 
 chon," continued Father Barbeau, " can you give me 
 your word of honor that Landry has not heard of the 
 state of the case, from you or any one else ? " 
 
 " I can," said Fadette. "I swear to you by my love 
 for my Maker, that you are the only person in the 
 world beside myself who knows anything about it." 
 
 " And do you think that Landry is still in love with 
 you, Fanchon ? Have you received any token of his 
 fidelity to you since your grandmother's death ? " 
 
 " I have received the best of assurances," answered 
 she ; " for I must tell you that he came to see me three 
 days after my grandmother died, and that he swore he 
 would die of grief if I did not become his wife." 
 
 " And what answer did you give him, Fadette ? " 
 
 "I am not called upon to answer that question, 
 Father Barbeau, but I will do so, if you wish it. I 
 told him that there was time enough for us to think 
 of getting married, and that I did not like to receive 
 attention from a man whose parents did not approve 
 of me."
 
 218 FADETTE 
 
 Fadette said this with an air of so much pride and 
 indifference that Father Barbeau was quite disturbed. 
 
 "I have no right to question you, Fanchon Fadet," 
 said he ; " and I don't know whether you mean to make 
 my son happy or unhappy for life, but I do know that 
 he is over head and ears in love with you, and if I 
 were in your place, and wanted to be loved for myself 
 alone, I should think, ' Here's Landry Barbeau, who 
 loved me when I was in rags, when everybody de- 
 spised me, and when his own relations treated him 
 as if he had committed a sin in caring for me. He 
 thought me beautiful when everybody else thought 
 me hopelessly ugly ; he loved me in spite of all the 
 troubles which that love brought upon him. He 
 loved me as well when I was away, as when we were 
 together ; in fact, he loves me so dearly that I cannot 
 help trusting him, and I will never marry any one 
 else.'" 
 
 " I've thought all that long ago, Father Barbeau," 
 answered Fadette, "but I must tell you once more 
 that I have the greatest objection to coming into a 
 family which would be ashamed of me, and which 
 only give their consent out of pity." 
 
 " If that's all that stands in the way, you may set 
 your mind at rest, Fanchon," said Father Barbeau ; 
 " for Landry's family has a great regard for you, and 
 will be glad to welcome you. Don't fancy that we 
 have changed our opinion because you are now rich. 
 It was not your poverty which made us object, but 
 the ugly stories which people told about you. If they
 
 FADETTE 219 
 
 had turned out to be well founded, I should never 
 have consented to call you my daughter-in-law, even 
 if it had cost Landry his life. But I determined to 
 find out the truth about these reports, so I went to 
 Chateau Meillant for that very reason. I made very 
 strict inquiries over there and in our own neighbor- 
 hood, and I am now convinced that they lied to me, 
 and that you are a good, honest girl, as Landry always 
 persisted in declaring you to be. So now, Fanchon 
 Fadet, I have come to ask you to marry my son, and 
 if you say yes, he shall be here before the week is 
 out." 
 
 This overture, which did not surprise her in the 
 least, made Fadette feel very happy ; but she took 
 care not to let him see how delighted she was, for she 
 wished that her future husband's family should con- 
 tinue to respect her. So she hesitated a moment. 
 Then Father Barbeau said to her : 
 
 " I see, my girl, that you still have a grudge against 
 me and my family. Don't expect too many apolo- 
 gies from a man of my age. Just rely on my word 
 when I tell you that we will all treat you with respect 
 and affection. Father Barbeau has never yet deceived 
 anybody, and you may believe what he tells you. 
 Come now, will you give the kiss of peace to the 
 guardian whom you chose for yourself, or the father 
 who wishes to adopt you ? " 
 
 Fadette could hold out no longer. She threw her 
 arms around Father Barbeau's neck, and his old heart 
 was rejoiced.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE arrangements were soon made. The marriage 
 was to take place as soon as the period of Fadette's 
 mourning was over. There was nothing left to do 
 but to send for Landry ; but when Mother Barbeau 
 came to see Fanchon that evening, to give her a kiss 
 and a blessing, she told her how Sylvinet had been 
 taken ill again as soon as he heard about his brother's 
 approaching marriage, and she asked for a few days' 
 delay, so that he might have time to recover his health 
 and spirits. 
 
 " You made a mistake, Mother Barbeau," said 
 Fadette, " in not allowing Sylvinet to believe that it 
 was a dream, when he saw me at his bedside, at the 
 time when his fever left him. Now he will oppose 
 his will to mine, and I shall no longer have power to 
 relieve him in his sleep as I have done. I shall lose 
 my influence over him, and my presence may even 
 make him worse." 
 
 " I don't think so," answered Mother Barbeau ; " for 
 just as soon as he was taken ill, a little while ago, he 
 went to bed and said, ' Where is Fadette ? I believe 
 she helped me the last time. Won't she come back 
 again ? ' And I told him that I would go for you, and
 
 FADETTE 221 
 
 he seemed pleased and even eager to have you 
 come." 
 
 " Til go," said Fadette, " but this time I shall try a 
 different treatment ; for, as I told you, the course I 
 adopted when he was not aware of my presence will 
 be useless now." 
 
 "And won't you take any medicines with you?" 
 asked Mother Barbeau. 
 
 " No," said Fadette ; " there is not much the matter 
 with his body. I must try and work on his mind. I 
 am going to make an attempt to exert a moral influ- 
 ence over him, but I do not promise you that I shall 
 be successful. One thing, however, I can promise 
 you, and that is, to wait patiently till Landry comes 
 back, and not to ask you to send for him till we have 
 done all in our power to restore his brother to health. 
 Landry has so often begged me to try and help Syl- 
 vinet that I know he will approve, even though his 
 return is postponed and his happiness delayed." 
 
 When Sylvinet saw Fadette standing beside his 
 bed, he seemed annoyed, and did not answer when 
 she asked him how he felt. She tried to feel his 
 pulse, but he drew away his hand and turned his 
 face to the wall. Then Fadette made signs that she 
 wanted to be left alone with him, and after everybody 
 had gone out she extinguished the lamp, and let no 
 other light enter the room except the rays of the 
 moon, which was at its full. Then she came back to 
 the bedside, and said to Sylvinet, in a tone of author- 
 ity which he obeyed like a child :
 
 222 FADETTE 
 
 " Sylvinet, put both your hands in mine, and tell 
 me the truth ; for I did not come here for the sake of 
 money, neither did I take the trouble to come here to 
 treat you, to have you behave so rudely and ungrate- 
 fully to me. So now listen to what I ask you, and 
 take care how you answer me ; for you cannot possibly 
 deceive me." 
 
 " Ask me whatever you please, Fadette," answered 
 the twin, quite taken aback at hearing little Fadette, 
 who had always been such a madcap, speak to him so 
 severely. 
 
 " Sylvain Barbeau," said she, " I believe you want 
 to die." 
 
 Sylvain hesitated a moment before answering, and 
 as Fadette kept a firm hold on his hand and made 
 him feel the power of her will, he said rather shyly : 
 
 " Wouldn't it be the best thing that could happen 
 to me if I should die, when I can't help seeing that I 
 am nothing but a care and trouble to my family, on 
 account of my bad health, and my 
 
 "Go on, Sylvain, don't keep anything back!" 
 
 "And my unhappy disposition, which I can't 
 change," answered the twin, quite overcome. 
 
 " You had better say your bad heart," said Fadette, 
 so sternly that he felt almost as much indignation as 
 fear.
 
 'Sylvain Barbeau,' said she, 'I believe you want to die.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 " WHY do you accuse me of having a bad heart ? " 
 said he. " You insult me because you see that I have 
 not the strength to defend myself." 
 
 " I told you the truth about yourself, and I am 
 going to tell you still more. I shall not take any 
 pity on you because you are ill ; for I know enough to 
 see that it is not very serious, and if you are in any 
 danger, it is of losing your mind, for you are doing 
 your very best to make yourself crazy. You don't 
 seem to have any idea what serious consequences 
 your ill-temper and folly may produce." 
 
 " Say what you please about my folly," said Sylvi- 
 net; "but I do not deserve to be accused of ill- 
 temper." 
 
 " Don't try to defend yourself," answered Fadette ; 
 " I know you better than you know yourself, Sylvain, 
 and I tell you that weakness leads to deceit, and that 
 has made you selfish and ungrateful." 
 
 " If you have such a poor opinion of me, Fanchon 
 Fadet, it must be because my brother Landry has 
 been talking ill of me, and you have found out how 
 little he cares for me ; for your only acquaintance with 
 me must be through him." 
 223
 
 224 FADETTE 
 
 " That's just what I expected you to say, Sylvain. 
 I know that you could not talk long without com- 
 plaining of your twin brother, and finding fault with 
 him ; for the love you bear him is so foolish and im- 
 moderate that it easily degenerates into spitefulness 
 and revenge. That shows me that you are not in 
 your right mind, and that you are not good. Well, 
 I can tell you that Landry loves you ten times as 
 much as you love him ; for he never finds fault with 
 you, no matter how you worry him, while you are for- 
 ever reproaching him if he doesn't do just what you 
 want him to do. How do you suppose that I can 
 help seeing the difference between you and him ? So 
 the more Landry praised you, the worse opinion I 
 had of you ; for it seemed to me that you must have 
 a very bad disposition to misunderstand so good a 
 brother." 
 
 " And so you hate me, Fadette, don't you ? I was 
 sure I was not mistaken, and I knew you talked 
 against me to my brother, till he ceased to love me." 
 
 " That's just like you again, Master Sylvain, and I 
 am glad that you lay the blame on me at last. Well, 
 I must tell you that vou are ill-natured and malicious, 
 since you wilfully misunderstand and insult a girl who 
 has always tried to be good to you, and has taken 
 your part, though nobody knew better than she did 
 that you did everything in your power to injure her. 
 A girl who has many a time given up the only pleas- 
 ure she had in the world, the pleasure of seeing 
 Landry and of being with him, so that she might let
 
 FADETTE 225 
 
 Landry go to you, and give you the happiness which 
 she denied herself. And yet I was under no obliga- 
 tion to you. You have always been an enemy of 
 mine, and as far back as I can remember I never saw 
 a child so cruel and unfeeling to anybody as you have 
 always been to me. I might have wished to take my 
 revenge, and there were plenty of opportunities. If I 
 have not availed myself of them, and if, without your 
 knowledge, I have returned good for evil, it is because 
 I believe it to be my duty to forgive my neighbor 
 if I wish to please God. But you probably do not 
 understand me when I speak to you of God, for you 
 are an enemy to Him and your own salvation." 
 
 " I have allowed you to say a good many things to 
 me, Fadette, but you are going too far when you 
 accuse me of being a heathen." 
 
 " Didn't you tell me that you wanted to die ? Do 
 you call that the desire of a Christian ? " 
 
 "I didn't say that, Fadette, I said " and 
 Sylvinet stopped, startled at the recollection of his 
 own words, which, now that Fadette had drawn his 
 attention to them, really seemed impious. 
 
 But she would not let him alone, and kept on 
 remonstrating with him. 
 
 "It may be," said she, " that you did not mean all you 
 said ; for I am sure that you are not so anxious to die 
 as you wish your family to suppose, so that they may 
 all do just as you wish them to do, and that you may 
 torment your mother, who is distressed to death, and 
 your twin brother, who is innocent enough to believe 
 Q
 
 226 FADETTE 
 
 that you would really like to put an end to yourself. 
 But you can't deceive me, Sylvain. I believe that 
 you are as much afraid to die as the rest of us, and 
 even more so, and that you enjoy playing upon the 
 fears of those who love you. You like to see them 
 yield to you even against their better judgment, when 
 you threaten to give up the ghost, and it must be 
 very convenient and agreeable to have everybody 
 give in to you at a word. That is the way you man- 
 age to rule your whole family. But as you use means 
 of which God disapproves, and which are contrary to 
 the natural order of things, He punishes you by mak- 
 ing you even more wretched than you would be if you 
 obeyed instead of commanding. And so you are 
 weary of a life which has been made only too easy for 
 you. Now let me tell you, Sylvain, what would have 
 made a good, sensible boy of you. You should have 
 had very severe parents, poverty, and scanty food, and 
 plenty of whippings. If you had been brought up in 
 the same school as myself and my brother Jeanet, 
 you would be thankful for anything, instead of being 
 as ungrateful as you are. Now, Sylvain, do not lay it 
 all to your being a twin! I know that they have 
 talked a great deal too much before you about that 
 affection existing between twins, which is a law of 
 nature, and which might perhaps cause your death if 
 it were set at naught, and you thought that you were 
 only carrying out your destiny when you bore this 
 love to excess. But God is not so unjust as to 
 single us out before our birth for an unhappy fate.
 
 FADETTE 227 
 
 He is not so cruel as to implant in us impulses which 
 we cannot overcome, and you do Him wrong super- 
 stitious creature that you are by believing that the 
 blood in your body has an irresistible power for evil, 
 which your moral sense is incapable of combating. 
 You can never make me believe that you could not 
 have conquered your jealous disposition if you tried 
 to do so, unless, indeed, your mind is unsettled. 
 You do not make an effort to overcome it, because 
 they pet you for this moral failing, and you are more 
 guided by your whims than you are by your sense of 
 duty." 
 
 Sylvinet did not reply, and allowed Fadette to con- 
 tinue to reprove him unsparingly. He knew well 
 enough that she was right in the main, and that in 
 one respect only was she too severe. She professed 
 to think that he had never made any effort to resist 
 this evil propensity of his, and that his selfishness 
 was premeditated, whereas he had acted selfishly 
 without knowing or intending it. This mortified and 
 distressed him very much, and he would gladly have 
 exonerated himself. She was quite aware that she 
 had been exaggerating, and she had done it purposely, 
 so that he might be brought to a properly chastened 
 frame of mind, before she should proceed to comfort 
 him and heal his wound. So she forced herself to 
 speak sternly to him, and to appear indignant, while 
 her heart was so full of pity and tenderness that she 
 was disgusted with the part she was playing, and was 
 more exhausted than he was.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 To tell the truth, Sylvinet was not half so ill as he 
 seemed or as he wished them to believe, and chose 
 to consider himself. When Fadette felt his pulse, 
 she saw at once that he had but little fever, and that, 
 though he might be rather flighty, it was because his 
 mind was not so strong as his body. So she thought 
 that the best way of managing him was to make him 
 afraid of her, and early the next morning she came 
 to see him again. He had slept but little, but he was 
 quiet and appeared to be exhausted. As soon as he 
 saw her, he held out his hand, instead of snatching 
 it away as he had done the night before. 
 
 "Why do you offer me your hand, Sylvain?" in- 
 quired she. " Do you want me to see whether you 
 have any fever? I see by your face that it is all 
 gone." 
 
 Sylvinet, ashamed at being obliged to draw back 
 the hand which she did not seem inclined to take, 
 said : 
 
 " I want to shake hands with you, Fadette, and to 
 thank you for all the trouble you have taken on my 
 account." 
 
 " If that's the case, I will shake hands with you," 
 said she, taking his hand and holding it in hers ; 
 228
 
 FADETTE 229 
 
 "for I never refuse an act of courtesy, and I don't 
 believe you are so deceitful as to pretend to be friendly 
 to me if you did not feel so." 
 
 Although, this time, Sylvinet was wide awake, he 
 was very glad indeed to allow his hand to rest in 
 Fadette's, and he said to her very gently : 
 
 "And yet you treated me very badly yesterday 
 evening, Fanchon, and I don't see how it is that I am 
 not angry with you. Indeed I feel much obliged to 
 you for coming to see me after all the trouble I have 
 given you." 
 
 Fadette sat down beside his bed, and talked to him, 
 but in a very different strain from her reproof of the 
 night before. She was so kind, so gentle, and so 
 affectionate, that Sylvinet was greatly relieved, and 
 his pleasure was all the greater because he had be- 
 lieved that she was very angry with him. He wept 
 freely, confessed his faults, and even begged her par- 
 don and asked for her friendship with such a good 
 grace that it was plain to be seen that his heart was 
 better than his head. She let him unbosom himself, 
 still scolding him a little, now and then, and when 
 she tried to take away her hand, he held it fast, be- 
 cause it seemed to him that this hand had power to 
 cure him of both mental and bodily ailments. When 
 she saw that he was in the right mood, she said : 
 
 " Now I am going, Sylvain, and you must get up ; 
 for your fever is gone, and you mustn't lie here, 
 letting your mother wait on you, and waste her time 
 sitting by your bedside. You must eat what your
 
 230 FADETTE 
 
 mother is preparing for you under my directions. It 
 is meat, and I know that you say you have a horror 
 of it, and that you insist on eating nothing but vege- 
 table messes, but, no matter, you must force your- 
 self to eat it, and even if you do not like it you must 
 not let her suspect it. Your mother will be gratified 
 to see you eating substantial food, and your dislike 
 will decrease each time you make an effort to overcome 
 it, and finally it will altogether disappear. You'll see 
 if I am not telling you the truth. So now, good-bye, 
 and don't let them come after me so early again ; for I 
 know you will not be ill any more unless you choose 
 to be." 
 
 "You will come again this evening, won't you?" 
 asked Sylvinet. 
 
 " I don't practise medicine for pay, Sylvain, and I 
 have something better to do than to take care of you 
 when you are not ill." 
 
 " You are right, Fadette, but you think that I only 
 want to see you out of selfishness. It isn't that at 
 all. I take great comfort in talking to you." 
 
 "Very well, you are not helpless, and you know 
 where I live. You know that I am going to be your 
 sister by marriage, as I am already in affection, so 
 there will be no harm in your coming to see me." 
 
 " I shall come, since you are willing that I should 
 do so," said Sylvinet. 
 
 " So now, au revotr, Fadette. I am going to get 
 up, though I have a bad headache from lying awake 
 all night and grieving."
 
 FADETTE 231 
 
 " I will try to cure your headache," said she ; "but 
 take care that it is the last, and remember, I order 
 you to sleep soundly to-night." 
 
 She laid her hand on his forehead, and in about 
 five minutes his head no longer ached, and he felt 
 relieved and comfortable. 
 
 " I see that I did wrong not to allow you to help 
 me, Fadette," said he ; " for you are a great doctress, 
 and you can charm away sickness. All the others 
 have done me harm by their drugs, and you have 
 cured me just by laying your hands on me. I believe 
 if I could have you always near me, I should not be 
 ill again, and would never be so foolish and wicked 
 as I have been. But tell me! You are not angry 
 with me any more, are you? Will you rely on the 
 promise I made you to do just as you tell me ? " 
 
 " I shall rely on it, and if you don't change your 
 mind, I shall be as fond of you as if you were my twin 
 brother." 
 
 " If you really meant what you say, Fanchon, you 
 would treat me like a brother ; for twins do not speak 
 to each other so formally." 
 
 "Well then, Sylvain, get up, eat your breakfast, 
 talk, sleep, take a walk," said she, rising. " Those are 
 my orders for to-day. To-morrow you may go to work." 
 
 " And I shall go to see you." 
 
 " Very well," said she, and she left the room, giving 
 him a look of pardon and affection, which at once in- 
 spired him with a desire to leave his bed of suffering 
 and self-indulgence.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MOTHER BARBEAU could not get over her amaze- 
 ment at the skill which Fadette had shown, and that 
 evening she said to her husband : 
 
 " Here is Sylvinet, feeling better than he has felt 
 for the last six months. He has eaten everything I 
 have given him to-day without any of his usual grim- 
 aces over it, and, what is still more remarkable, he 
 speaks of Fadette as if she were the good Lord Him- 
 self. He can't say enough in her praise, and he is 
 longing for his brother's return and marriage. It 
 seems like an absolute miracle, and I don't know 
 whether I am asleep or awake." 
 
 " Miracle or no miracle," said Father Barbeau, " the 
 girl is very clever, and I think any family which gets 
 her is lucky." 
 
 Three days afterward, Sylvinet started off for Arton 
 to bring his brother home. He had begged his father 
 and Fadette to allow him, as a great favor, to be the 
 first to tell Landry of his good fortune. 
 
 "All my happiness comes at once," said Landry, 
 almost ready to die of joy, in Sylvinet's arms; "for 
 you have come to bring me home, and seem as 
 delighted as I am myself." 
 232
 
 FADETTE 233 
 
 They came back together, and did not linger on 
 the way, as you may well imagine, and there never 
 was a happier set of people than the family at the 
 Twinnery, when they sat down to supper, with Fa- 
 dette and Jeanet in their midst. Everything went on 
 smoothly for the next six months. Little Nanette 
 became engaged to young Caillaud, who was Lan- 
 dry's best friend, outside his own family. It was de- 
 cided that the two weddings should take place on the 
 same day and at the same hour. Sylvinet had grown 
 so fond of Fadette that he did nothing without con- 
 sulting her, and she had as much influence over him 
 as if she were really his sister. He was in excellent 
 health, and there was no longer any talk of jealousy. 
 If he still occasionally looked sad, and was too much 
 inclined to indulge in reverie, Fadette reproved him, 
 and he at once began to smile and talk. 
 
 The two marriages took place on the same day and 
 at the same Mass, and as both families were well-to- 
 do, the wedding feast was so bountiful that Father 
 Caillaud, who was always as sober and dignified as 
 possible, made believe to be a little drunk the third 
 day. There was nothing to dampen the enjoyment 
 of Landry and the whole family, and, indeed, one 
 might say, the whole neighborhood, for the Barbeaus 
 and Caillauds were rich, and Fadette had as much as 
 both families together ; so they extended their hos- 
 pitality to everybody and gave away a good deal 
 in charity. Fanchon was so kind-hearted that she 
 wanted to return good for evil toward all those who
 
 234 FADETTE 
 
 had misjudged her. Indeed, later on, when Landry 
 had bought a fine farm, which he and his wife man- 
 aged admirably, she built a comfortable house on 
 their own land, where all the poor children of the 
 district came for four hours every week day, and she 
 and her brother Jeanet took the trouble to teach 
 them, to give them religious instruction, and even to 
 relieve the necessities of those among them who were 
 in want. 
 
 She remembered that she had herself been an un- 
 fortunate, neglected child, and her own beautiful boys 
 and girls were early taught to be kind and sympa- 
 thetic toward those who had nobody to pet them and 
 care for them. 
 
 But what was Sylvinet doing while all these rejoic- 
 ings were going on in his family? Something had 
 happened which nobody could understand and which 
 puzzled Father Barbeau very much. About a month 
 after the weddings of his brother and sister, when 
 his father urged him to look around for a wife, he 
 answered that he did not want to marry, but that he 
 had an idea in his head which he wanted to carry out, 
 this was to go and enlist for a soldier. As there 
 are more girls than boys in the families of our country 
 people, and all the hands are needed for the cultiva- 
 tion of the land, it is very seldom that a man volun- 
 teers. So this determination of Sylvinefs caused a 
 good deal of surprise, and he assigned no reason for 
 it, except that he had a fancy for a military life, which 
 nobody had ever suspected. He turned a deaf ear to
 
 FADETTE 235 
 
 the remonstrances of his father and mother, his sis- 
 ters and brothers, not even excepting Landry, and 
 they were obliged to appeal to Fanchon, who had 
 better judgment than any member of the family, and 
 whose advice was valuable. She and Sylvinet had a 
 conversation of more than two hours, and when they 
 parted, it was noticed that he and his sister-in-law 
 had both been shedding tears ; but they seemed so 
 calm and determined that there was no more objec- 
 tions raised when Sylvinet said that his mind was 
 made up, and Fanchon added that she approved his 
 resolution, and thought it would turn out to be the 
 best thing for him in the end. As it seemed prob- 
 able that she knew more about the matter than she 
 chose to tell, no one ventured to offer any opposition, 
 and even Mother Barbeau gave in, though she shed 
 a good many tears over it. Landry was in despair, 
 but his wife said : 
 
 "It is God's will and our duty to let Sylvain go. 
 Believe me, I know what I am talking about, and ask 
 no more questions." 
 
 Landry accompanied his brother as far as he could 
 on his journey. He had insisted on carrying Syl- 
 vain's bundle on his shoulder, and when he handed it 
 to him, it seemed as if he were tearing the heart out 
 of his body. He went home to his dear wife, who 
 nursed him tenderly ; for he was really ill with grief 
 for a whole month. 
 
 Sylvain did not fall ill, but pursued his way to 
 the frontier ; for it was in the times of the great and
 
 236 FADETTE 
 
 glorious wars of Napoleon. Though he had never 
 had the least liking for the army, he kept his inclina- 
 tions under such control that he soon gained the rep- 
 utation of being a good soldier, brave in action, like 
 a man who attaches no value to his life, and yet as 
 amenable to discipline as a child, and living with all 
 the austerity and rigorous simplicity of the ancients. 
 As he had a very fair education, he soon won his pro- 
 motion, and after ten years of gallant service and 
 many hardships, he got to be a captain, and was also 
 decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honor. 
 
 " Oh, if he would only come home after all these 
 years," said Mother Barbeau to her husband, the 
 evening of the day on which they had received a 
 delightful letter from him, filled with kind messages 
 for everybody, for Landry, for Fanchon, and in- 
 deed for the whole family, old and young. "Here 
 he is, almost a general, and it is time he had a rest." 
 
 " He has rank enough without exaggerating it," 
 said Father Barbeau, "and it is a great honor for a 
 peasant's family." 
 
 " Fadette predicted it," said Mother Barbeau, 
 " yes, indeed, she told us long ago how it would turn 
 out." 
 
 " All the same," said the father, " I shall never 
 understand how it was that his tastes turned so sud- 
 denly in that direction, and how his disposition 
 changed so completely, he who was so quiet and 
 so fond of his ease." 
 
 " Old man, our daughter-in-law knows a good deal
 
 FADETTE 237 
 
 more about that than she will tell, but it is not easy 
 to deceive so fond a mother as I am, and I think 1 
 know as much about it as our Fadette." 
 " I think that it is about time you told me." 
 "Well," said Mother Barbeau, '"our Fanchon is 
 too powerful an enchantress, and she exerted more 
 influence over Sylvinet than she intended. When 
 she saw how the charm was working, she would 
 gladly have dispelled it, or done something to dimin- 
 ish its force, but she could not, and our Sylvinet, see- 
 ing that he was becoming too fond of his brother's 
 wife, went away from a sense of honor, in which he 
 was sustained and encouraged by Fanchon." 
 
 " If that is the case," said Father Barbeau, scratch- 
 ing his ear, " I fear that he will never marry ; for the 
 nurse of Clavieres said long ago that his infatuation 
 for his brother would cease should he ever fall in 
 love, but that his heart was too tender and passionate 
 ever to love more than once."'
 
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