This seemed the extent of her family; but before I had been ten minutes in the house, I heard a step running across the room above, and, the moment after, the same beautiful boy, of whom I had caught a momentary glance at the château, burst into the room, and stood gazing at me with some surprise. "What! another! Mon cher philosophe," I cried; "what, four since I left you?" "No, no," replied Jacques Marlot, laughing, "that is no son of mine, though he could not be a better boy if he were. He is the child of a poor gentleman who was killed in the late wars, and whom we have to take care of." There was something in the poor boy's fate so similar to my own, that, though Jacques Marlot did not enter into further details at that time, I could not but feel interested in him; and, perhaps--for there are, I believe, few people on whom personal appearance has no effect--I might be somewhat influenced, too, by his fine countenance and noble mien, which were extraordinary in a child of his age. Calling him to me, I set him on my knee, and was soon high in his good graces. He admired the tassels of my cloak, played with the hilt of my sword, and was speedily in a full career of questions, which, with childish rapidity, he scarcely waited to hear answered. I found afterwards from Jacques Marlot that both his father and mother were dead, and that he had none but some very distant relations living in one of the far provinces of France. Everything I saw and everything I heard of him increased the interest I felt, more and more; and at length, remarking that he had acquired a strong Breton accent, I asked the ci-devant printer how he, who knew better, could suffer the child to speak such a patois, adding, "You had better give him to me, and let me make him my page." "Are you serious?" demanded Jacques Marlot: "if you are, I dare say the matter might easily be managed; but, of course, I must have the consent of his friends." Although I had no idea, at the time that I did make the proposal, that there was any chance of its being accepted, and although the boy was in reality too young to be of any service to me as a page, yet, the having once said it, together, perhaps, with a slight touch of romance in my own disposition, and a real interest in the poor boy's situation, made me adhere to my offer; and, after saying that I was serious, I asked who the boy's friends were, and what was their real station in life. "Oh! as to his rank," replied Jacques Marlot, "he is of as noble blood as any in the land, though poor enough, I believe; but, however, as it was Father Ferdinand, the good confessor at the château, who put him under my care, I must, of course, speak with him before I can consent to anything."