Life in the little French village to Adrienne was entirely delightful. She was a good housewife, and though since her aunt's time the household had been augmented by more maids and one extra outdoor man, she still found plenty to employ her time. She rode with her husband very often, helped him in his farming, superintended the Château gardens, and looked well after the needs of the peasants in the village. She never neglected Agatha, and would always come away from a visit and talk with her, the stronger in her faith and love in her Lord and Master. She had a certain amount of social obligations, for the neighbourhood had a great liking and respect for her husband, and they were friendly with all. But neither of them cared for Bridge-playing, and there were only quiet dinner parties, or garden parties in the summer by way of entertainment. Monsieur Dragominsk had quite made himself at home, and he and Alain seemed always happy together. Alain was strangely reticent about his lessons. Sometimes Adrienne tried to discover what tutor and pupil talked about when they were out, walking or riding together. Alain would say: "Oh, we talk. He tells me about Russia, and lots of stories." And Adrienne had to leave it at that. Monsieur Dragominsk was very sociably inclined. He soon knew all the peasants and farmers round and would spend his evenings at the village inn discussing world-wide topics of interest. He had the power of impressing and interesting all who listened to him. The only one who did not seem to fall under his sway was Agatha. They only had one interview, and that was a short one. Monsieur Dragominsk would never go near her again. "A patient little invalid," he would say, "but full of hysterical fancies and nerves. She looks upon herself as a saint, and tries to live up to the pose. But there's an artificiality about her to my mind." He said this in the village inn. The speech was much resented, but no one seemed able to be angry with the young man, he was so full of smiles and warning persuasion. When Adrienne questioned Agatha about his visit, she was silent for quite five minutes. The happy light died out of her face. Then she looked at Adrienne with grave steady eyes. "I wish sometimes I did not see so far into people's souls, Madame." "But you always seem to find a lot of good in them, Agatha, don't you, even in our village scapegraces?" Agatha did not smile. "Madame, time will show. He is a stranger in thought, as well as nationality." "What does he think?" said Adrienne. "I wish I knew, he always agrees instantly with what the Count and I say, but sometimes there is a look in his eyes that belies his words." Agatha was silent. She would say no more. Adrienne had never heard her say an unkind word of anyone. She always seemed to find good traits in all. So that her silent attitude towards the young Russian brought back Adrienne's first feelings of disquietude.