The young man came in. The first person he saw was his mother. That made him hesitate. His eyes, young and impressionable, gave a nervous twitch as if they were hurt. Quickly he turned to the sofa, took the hand which the visitor offered him, and gravely but less embarrassed than his father, and with greater coolness he said in French: "I have just been for a walk. I had to run not to be late, for I promised my father I would be here when you came." "You are too kind," said the official, laughing. "We speak German with your father, but I am able to carry on a conversation in another tongue besides our national language." He went on in French, laying stress on the first syllables of the words. "I admired your park, Monsieur Oberlé, and even all the little country of Alsheim. It is very pretty. You are surrounded, I believe, by a refractory population--almost invisible; in any case, just now as I came through the village I hardly saw a living soul." "They are in the fields," said Madame Oberlé. "Who is the Mayor, then?" "M. Bastian." "I remember them: a family very much behind the times." His look was questioning, and he moved his heavy head towards the two women and Jean. Three answers came at once. "Behind the times, yes," said Lucienne--"they are, but such good people." "They are simply old-fashioned folk," said Madame Oberlé. Jean said: "Above all very worthy." "Yes, I know what that means." The Prefect made an evasive gesture. "Well, provided they go straight." The father saved the situation. "We have but few interesting things to show you, but perhaps you would like to see my works? They are full and animated, I assure you. There are one hundred workmen, and machines at work--pines sixty feet long under the branches, are reduced in three minutes to planks, or cut up as rafters. Would you care to see them?" "Yes, certainly." The conversation, thus turned in another direction at once became less constrained. The origin of the Oberlés' works, the Vosges woods, the comparison between the German manner of felling, by the Government, and the French system, by which the owners of a portion of a forest may fell the trees themselves under the supervision of the foresters--all these questions gave each a chance to speak. Lucienne became lively, Madame Oberlé, questioned by her husband, answered. Jean also spoke. The functionary congratulated himself on having come. When her father made a sign, Lucienne rose, to ring for the footman and to ask that some refreshment might be served. But she had not time to make a single step. The door opened, and Victor, the servant who had not been at his post a short time ago, appeared, very red, very embarrassed, and lowering his eyes. On his left arm, holding himself as erect as possible, was the grandfather, M. Philippe Oberlé.