"Now, young man," said she, "who are you, and what do you want? I do not know you, and you are a stranger in the neighborhood. Tell me how I may oblige you." François did not listen to her, and instead of answering her, he began to ask questions about how long Madame Blanchet had been ill, whether she were in any danger, and whether she were well cared for. Mariette answered that Madeleine had been ill since her husband's death, because she had overexerted herself in nursing him, and watching at his bedside, day and night; that they had not as yet sent for the doctor, but that they would do so in case she was worse; and as to her being well cared for, Mariette declared that she knew her duty and did not spare herself. At these words, the waif looked the girl full in the face, and had no need to ask her name, for besides knowing that soon after he had left the mill, Master Blanchet had placed his sister in his wife's charge, he detected in the pretty face of this pretty girl a striking resemblance to the sinister face of the dead miller. There are many fine and delicate faces which have an inexplicable likeness to ugly ones; and though Mariette Blanchet's appearance was as charming as that of her brother had been disagreeable, she still had an unmistakable family look. Only the miller's expression had been surly and irascible, while Mariette's was mocking rather than resentful, and fearless instead of threatening. So it was that François was neither altogether disturbed nor altogether at ease concerning the attention Madeleine might receive from this young girl. Her cap was of fine linen, neatly folded and pinned; her hair, which she wore somewhat after the fashion of town-bred girls, was very lustrous, and carefully combed and parted; and both her hands and her apron were very white for a sick-nurse. In short, she was much too young, fresh, and gay to spend the day and night in helping a person who was unable to help herself. François asked no more questions, but sat down in the chimney-corner, determined not to leave the place until he saw whether his dear Madeleine's illness turned for the better or worse. Mariette was astonished to see him take possession of the fire so cavalierly, just as if he were in his own house. He stared into the blaze, and as he seemed in no humor for talking, she dared inquire no further who he was and what was his business. After a moment, Catherine, who had been the house-servant for eighteen or twenty years, came into the room. She paid no attention to him, but approached the bed of her mistress, looked at her cautiously, and then turned to the fireplace, to see after the potion which Mariette was concocting. Her behavior showed an intense interest for Madeleine, and François, who took the truth of the matter in a throb, was on the point of addressing her with a friendly greeting; but--