While Julien was immersed in these reflections, and continued eating with an abstracted air, Reine Vincart was rapidly examining the reserved, almost ungainly, young man, who did not dare address any conversation to her, and who was equally stiff and constrained with those sitting near him. She made a mental comparison of him with Claudet, the bold huntsman, alert, resolute, full of dash and spirit, and a feeling of charitable compassion arose in her heart at the thought of the reception which the Sejournant family would give to this new master, so timid and so little acquainted with the ways and dispositions of country folk. Julien did not impress her as being able to defend himself against the ill-will of persons who would consider him an intruder, and would certainly endeavor to make him pay dearly for the inheritance of which he had deprived them. “You do not take your wine, Monsieur de Buxieres!” said she, noticing that her guest’s glass was still full. “I am not much of a wine-drinker,” replied he, “and besides, I never take wine by itself--I should be obliged if you would have some water brought.” Reine smiled, and passed him the water-bottle. “Indeed?” she said, “in that case, you have not fallen among congenial spirits, for in these mountains they like good dinners, and have a special weakness for Burgundy. You follow the chase, at any rate?” “No, Mademoiselle, I do not know how to handle a gun!” “I suppose it is not your intention to settle in Vivey?” “Why not?” replied he; “on the contrary, I intend to inhabit the chateau, and establish myself there definitely.” “What!” exclaimed Reine, laughing, “you neither drink nor hunt, and you intend to live in our woods! Why, my poor Monsieur, you will die of ennui.” “I shall have my books for companions; besides, solitude never has had any terrors for me.” The young girl shook her head incredulously. “I shouldn’t wonder,” she continued, “if you do not even play at cards.” “Never; games of chance are repugnant to me.” “Take notice that I do not blame you,” she replied, gayly, “but I must give you one piece of advice: don’t speak in these neighborhoods of your dislike of hunting, cards, or good wine; our country folk would feel pity for you, and that would destroy your prestige.” Julien gazed at her with astonishment. She turned away to give directions to La Guite about the beds for her guests--then the supper went on silently. As soon as they had swallowed their last mouthful, the menservants repaired to their dormitory, situated in the buildings of the ancient forge. Reine Vincart rose also. “This is the time when I put my father to bed--I am obliged to take leave of you, Monsieur de Buxieres. Guitiote will conduct you to your room. For you, driver, I have had a bed made in a small room next to the furnace; you will be nice and warm. Good-night, gentlemen, sleep well!”