After that the talk flowed freely. I found that the young marquis, having come on a pleasure tour to the United States, had travelled thus far out of the general route to look up the graves of some of his mother's people, who had come out with Baron Castine, but had left him, as my ancestor had done, on account of his marriage with the Indian princess. They were the Belleforts of Blanque. "Bellefort!" I cried. "That name is on several stones in our old burying-ground. The Belforts of our village are their descendants, Father L'Homme-Dieu." "Not Ham?" cried the father, bursting into a great laugh. "Not Ham Belfort, Jacques?" I laughed back, nodding. "Just Ham, father!" I never saw Father L'Homme-Dieu so amused. He struck his hands together, and leaned back in his chair, repeating over and over, "Ham Belfort! Cousin of the Marquis de Ste. Valerie! Ham Belfort! Is it possible?" The young nobleman looked from one to the other of us curiously. "But what?" he asked. "Ham! _c'est-a-dire, jambon, n'est-ce pas?_" "It is also a Biblical name, marquis!" said Father L'Homme-Dieu. "I must ask who taught you your catechism!" "True! true!" said the marquis, slightly confused. "_Sem, Ham, et Japhet_, perfectly! and--I have a cousin, it appears, named Jam--I should say, Ham? Will you lead me to him, M. D'Arthenay, that I embrace him?" "You shall see him!" I said. "I don't think Ham is used to being embraced, but I will leave that to you. I will take you to see him, and to see the graves in the burying-ground, whenever you say." "But now, at the present time, this instant!" cried Ste. Valerie, springing from his chair. "Here is Father L'Homme-Dieu dying of me, in despair at his morning broken up, his studies destroyed by chatter. Take me with you, D'Arthenay, and show me all things; Ham, also his brothers, and Noe and the Ark, if they find themselves also here. Amazing country! astonishing people!" So off we went together, he promising Mrs. Sparrow to return in time for dinner, and informing her that she was a sylphide, which caused her to say, "Go along!" in high delight. He had brought a letter to the priest, from an old friend, and was to stay at the house. Back across the brown fields we went. I was no longer alone; the world was full of new light, new interest. I felt that it was good to be alive; and when my companion began to sing in very lightness of heart, I joined in, and sang with right good will. "La bonne aventure, oh gai! La bonne aventure!" He told me that his mother always sang him this song when he had been a good boy; I replied that mine had done the same. How many French mothers have sung the merry little lilt, I wonder? We sang one snatch and another, and I could not see that the marquise had had the advantage of the little peasant girl, if it came to songs.