_Bonne maman_ was very musical, and in the _petit salon_, when she was installed there for the day, I heard music constantly, performed by two young _protégés_ of the house. One of these was Mlle. Ghislaine du Guesclin, the youngest descendant of our great Breton hero. It was a very poor, very haughty family, and extremely proud of its origin. Ghislaine's father, the Marquis du Guesclin (for with a foolish conceit he had separated the particle from the name) had died, leaving his daughter penniless and recommending her to my grandfather, who placed her as _dame de compagnie_ beside my mother and _bonne maman_. Ghislaine was an excellent musician, and their relation was of the happiest. The other _protégé_ was called Yves le Grand, and was the son of _bonne maman's coiffeur_. His story was curious. As a boy of fourteen or fifteen he had come three times a week to wash the windows and doors, and while he worked he sang all sorts of Breton songs and strange airs that, as was learned later, were his own improvisations. _Bonne maman_, noticing his talent, had him taken to Paris by her husband, and he was educated in the conservatory, where, after ten years of admirable study, he took the second prize. He returned to Quimper, and earned a handsome livelihood by giving pianoforte lessons while remaining in a sense our private musician, for he was much attached to us all and accompanied us on all our travels. Ghislaine sang in a ravishing fashion, and Yves accompanied her on the clavecin that stood in the _petit salon_, mingling the grave accents of his baritone with her clear soprano. When I first heard them I was almost stupefied by the experience, cuddling down into _bonne maman's_ arms, my head sunk between her cheek and shoulder, but listening with such absorption and with such evident appreciation that _bonne maman_ loved me more than ever for the community of taste thus revealed between us.