He tried to appear the same as usual; but for more than a fortnight, he was so absorbed in a reverie at meal-times that the attention of the Vertauds was excited. "That young man does not confide in us," observed the miller. "He must be in love." "Perhaps it is with me," thought the daughter, "and he is too modest to confess it. He is afraid that I shall think him more attracted by my money than my person, so he is trying to prevent our guessing what is on his mind." Thereupon, she set to work to cure him of his shyness, and encouraged him so frankly and sweetly in her words and looks, that he was a little touched in spite of his preoccupation. Occasionally, he said to himself that he was rich enough to help Madeleine in case of need, and that he could well afford to marry a girl who laid no claim to his fortune. He was not in love with any woman, but he saw Jeannette Vertaud's good qualities, and was afraid of being hard-hearted if he did not respond to her advances. At times he pitied her, and was almost ready to console her. But all at once, on a journey which he made to Crevant on his master's business, he met a forester from Presles, who told him of Cadet Blanchet's death, adding that he had left his affairs in great disorder, and that nobody knew whether his widow would be able to right them. François had no cause to love or regret Master Blanchet, yet his heart was so tender that when he heard the news his eyes were moist and his head heavy, as if he were about to weep; he knew that Madeleine was weeping for her husband at that very moment, that she forgave him everything, and remembered only that he was the father of her child. The thought of Madeleine's grief awoke his own, and obliged him to weep with her over the sorrow which he was sure was hers. His first impulse was to leap upon his horse and hasten to her side; but he reflected that it was his duty to ask permission of his master. [Illustration] CHAPTER XV