“Father,” continued Jeannette in the same humble and firm tone, “judge me, now that you know how guilty I am. It is to you I speak, in presence of my mother and M. le Curé, and I am ready to submit to whatever punishment you may inflict upon me. I have deprived you of a son who made you happy, that you might keep a daughter who has only drawn misery and sorrow on your house. But that daughter is still capable of loving you; let her remain with you, that she may make reparation for her sins. I know I do not deserve it,” added she after a moment’s silence. “My daughter,” said M. le Curé, “you have done well. Rise; the good God pardons you, and your parents also, very certainly.” “O my poor darling! most surely,” said Pierrette, pressing her child to her breast. “And you, Ragaud, will you not embrace your daughter?” asked M. le Curé. The good farmer, you may well think, had no desire to be severe. He kissed Jeannette with great tenderness, and made her sit down by him. But his heart was much troubled; now that he understood his injustice towards Jean‐Louis, and his rash judgment, and remembering how easy it would have been for him to have prevented his departure by speaking a friendly word at the right time, he reproached himself as bitterly as Jeannette had done; and if his paternal dignity had not prevented him from humiliating himself before his child, he would have been tempted to confess in his turn. “M. le Curé,” said he, “if God one day will let us know where Jean‐Louis is, do you think he would consent to return?” “Hem!” said the _curé_, “he is proud; that remains to be seen....” “Oh! I would beg him so hard,” replied Jeanne. “In the first place, my child, we must put our hands on him; and there is the difficulty. Jeannet is not a boy to change his resolution like a weathercock that turns to every wind. And if he has enlisted, you will have to run after his regiment.” “Poor child!” said Ragaud, “he don’t know that he has a little fortune stowed away in a safe place, and that it increases every year. If it should cost three thousand francs, I will redeem him, no matter where, no matter when.” “Father,” said Jeanne, “before leaving M. le Curé, let me ask you one favor in his presence.” “Speak, my child, I promise it to you in advance,” answered the good man. “That you will never speak to me of marriage,” replied the little thing in a firm voice, “and that you will let me assist my mother in all her labors in the fields.” “And when mademoiselle comes back?” asked the _curé_, with a spice of mischief. “Oh! I understand too well that my place is no longer at the château; all our troubles have come from my having lived there too long,” said she. “Jeanne Ragaud,” said M. le Curé, “always think so, and conform your conduct to your words; and if you will persevere in your resolution, in the name of the Lord I promise you that these trials will pass, and that you will yet have many happy days.”