It was dark before the carriage drove up to the chateau. Their approach had been seen, for two lackeys appeared with torches at the head of the broad steps. M. du Tillet put his hand encouragingly on Harry's shoulder and led him up the steps. A servant preceded them across a great hall, when a door opened and a gentleman came forward. "Monsieur le Marquis," M. du Tillet said, bowing, "this is the young gentleman you charged me to bring to you. "I am glad to see you," the marquis said; "and I hope you will make yourself happy and comfortable here." Harry did not understand the words, but he felt the tone of kindness and courtesy with which they were spoken. He could, however, only bow; for although in the eight days he had spent with M. du Tillet he had picked up a great many nouns and a few phrases, his stock of words was of no use to him at present. "And you, M. du Tillet," the marquis said. "You have made a good journey, I hope? I thank you much for the trouble you have taken. I like the boy's looks; what do you think of him?" "I like him very much," M. du Tillet said; "he is a new type to me, and a pleasant one. I think he will make a good companion for the young count." The marquis now turned and led the way into a great drawing-room, and taking Harry's hand led him up to a lady seated on a couch. "This is our young English friend, Julie. Of course he is strange at present, but M. du Tillet reports well of him, and I already like his face." The lady held out her hand, which Harry, instead of bending over and kissing, as she had expected, shook heartily. For an instant only a look of intense surprise passed across her face; then she said courteously: "We are glad to see you. It is very good of you to come so far to us. I trust that you will be happy here." "These are my sons Ernest and Jules, who will, I am sure, do all in their power to make you comfortable," the marquis said. The last words were spoken sharply and significantly, and their tone was not lost upon the two boys; they had a moment before been struggling to prevent themselves bursting into a laugh at Harry's reception of their mother's greeting, but they now instantly composed their faces and advanced. "Shake hands with him," the marquis said sharply; "it is the custom of his country." Each in turn held out his hand to Harry, who, as he shook hands with them, took a mental stock of his future companions. "Good looking," he said to himself, "but more like girls than boys. A year in the fifth form would do them a world of good. I could polish the two off together with one hand." "My daughters," the marquis said, "Mesdemoiselles Marie, Jeanne, and Virginie."