Her tears had dried quickly as she sat there startled, without a word and with the one thought in her mind, that this was her son, and D'Apreval, whom the same thought had struck very unpleasantly, said in an agitated voice: “Is this Monsieur Benedict?” “Who told you his name?” the wife asked, still rather suspiciously. “The blacksmith at the corner of the highroad,” he replied, and then they were all silent, with their eyes fixed on the door of the cow house, which formed a sort of black hole in the wall of the building. Nothing could be seen inside, but they heard a vague noise, movements and footsteps and the sound of hoofs, which were deadened by the straw on the floor, and soon the man reappeared in the door, wiping his forehead, and came toward the house with long, slow strides. He passed the strangers without seeming to notice them and said to his wife: “Go and draw me a jug of cider; I am very thirsty.” Then he went back into the house, while his wife went into the cellar and left the two Parisians alone. “Let us go, let us go, Henri,” Madame de Cadour said, nearly distracted with grief, and so d'Apreval took her by the arm, helped her to rise, and sustaining her with all his strength, for he felt that she was nearly fainting, he led her out, after throwing five francs on one of the chairs. As soon as they were outside the gate, she began to sob and said, shaking with grief: “Oh! oh! is that what you have made of him?” He was very pale and replied coldly: “I did what I could. His farm is worth eighty thousand francs, and that is more than most of the sons of the middle classes have.” They returned slowly, without speaking a word. She was still crying; the tears ran down her cheeks continually for a time, but by degrees they stopped, and they went back to Fecamp, where they found Monsieur de Cadour waiting dinner for them. As soon as he saw them, he began to laugh and exclaimed: “So my wife has had a sunstroke, and I am very glad of it. I really think she has lost her head for some time past!” Neither of them replied, and when the husband asked them, rubbing his hands: “Well, I hope that, at least, you have had a pleasant walk?” Monsieur d'Apreval replied: “A delightful walk, I assure you; perfectly delightful.” THE MAISON TELLIER I They went there every evening about eleven o'clock, just as they would go to the club. Six or eight of them; always the same set, not fast men, but respectable tradesmen, and young men in government or some other employ, and they would drink their Chartreuse, and laugh with the girls, or else talk seriously with Madame Tellier, whom everybody respected, and then they would go home at twelve o'clock! The younger men would sometimes stay later.