“Yes, M. Gerbaut,” I answered, going up to him, and shaking his hand; “but I did not expect to find what I have found.” “And, pray, what have you found?” “Mademoiselle Sophie, who has been kind enough to sing me an air from the ‘Devin de Village de M. Rousseau.’” “Ah, indeed! She did not require much persuasion, did she?” “Only great men, or great fools, require to be asked twice,” said Sophie, laughing; “and as I am not a genius or a ——-” Here she paused, while a sweet smile played over her lips. “Fool,” continued M. Gerbaut, “you sang to him.” “Did I do wrong, father?” “Certainly not. As long as you sing to your equals, and without affectation, well and good. You know what I mean?” Sophie bent her eyes, blushing. “We must change our quarters, I think,” said Father Gerbaut, half smiling, half serious. “Wherefore?” said I, breaking into the conversation. “Because we are just opposite to the ‘Hotel de Bras d’Or,’ where many handsome young gentlemen put up, and who are fond of music as a vehicle for making love.” “Oh, father!” murmured Sophie; “say not so!” “What would you have?” cried M. Gerbaut. “They are no friends of mine who would bring trouble into peaceful families. When I understood that the princes and great lords had left the country, I had hoped that these gentlemen would have gone in their train. But no; they stay to make love to our wives and daughters, and to conspire against the nation. But this is not the time to speak of that. This is a _fête_ day for Varennes. I must pay a visit to the cellar and larder. After dinner we will have a dance. Will you be Sophie’s partner?” said M. Gerbaut to me. “I should be only too happy,” cried I; “but perhaps Mdlle. Sophie does not think a young apprentice worthy of offering her his arm?” “Oh, M. Réné!” said the young girl; “you listen to my father, and then do me a grievous wrong, without any foundation for it.” Sophie and myself bounded down the staircase, and in a moment found ourselves under a bright sun in the street, as I could not help thinking, like two butterflies emerged from a chrysalis state. Whilst I had been waiting at M. Gerbaut’s, and whilst I had been listening to Sophie’s song, the streets of Varennes had undergone a great change. The city was holding high holiday, with which, however, was mingled a certain degree of solemnity. All the houses were hung with tapestry; and outside the doors tables were laid, covered with flowers, at which the inhabitants of the houses were seated, eating, waited upon by their servants, if they had any; if not, by themselves.