Anne-Hilarion had picked primroses, as suggested, for Grain d'Orge, but he had not given them to him, for, sensible little boy that he was, he knew the signs of a grown-up being really too absorbed to attend to him, since Grandpapa himself sometimes exhibited them. The most unmistakable of these were written now upon the three men who sat, talking so earnestly, under the beech-tree. He had approached them tentatively once or twice, but even M. le Chevalier took no notice of him--did not, in fact, appear to be aware that he was there--so in the end he presented his second harvest to the other Chouan, who received it with testimonies of extreme gratitude, and arranged some of the flowers round his greasy wide-brimmed hat. This man could not speak a word of French, so all he and Anne could do was to sit side by side on the log and smile spasmodically at each other. Anne regretted that his foreign shell with the stripes was in M. le Chevalier's pocket, for a scheme had just visited him of filling it with water and putting primroses into it. He gave a sudden little yawn. What a long, long time M. le Chevalier was talking. . . . His head was all but nodding when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and there was M. le Chevalier bending over him. "Are you bored to death, my child, or asleep?" he asked kindly. "I have been a terrible while talking, have I not? It is Grain d'Orge's fault; he is so obstinate. Now, would you like to come for a little walk in the wood before we have our next meal? There is just time, and I have something to show you." Anne-Hilarion jumped up from the log with much alacrity. "What is it that we are going to see, M. le Chevalier?" he asked, as he set off, his hand in his friend's. "Do ogres live in this forest--or giants? Or perhaps there is buried treasure? You know, I have never seen so many trees all together at one time as this. I could not count them, _possibly_!" "No, I should think not," agreed La Vireville. "You cannot even see them all. This is the way, where the little path strikes off. I am going to show you, Anne, the château of Kerdronan, where I lived when I was a boy like you." "Oh, M. le Chevalier, I shall like that!" "Wait till you see it!" said Fortuné. And they went along the path, little more than a track, that wound between the trees. Over and about them were the fledgling beech-leaves, of the loveliest green of hope and innocence, so young and untried that they resembled gleams of bright water rather than anything more palpable; and underfoot, crackling like paper, were their fellows of last year. "Then you used to come and play in this wood when you were a boy, M. le Chevalier?" began Anne-Hilarion again. "I knew every inch of it once," replied the émigré. Anne-Hilarion gave a sigh of envy. "But you ran away to sea, did you not?" he asked, and there was a strong suggestion of reproach in his tone.