"`All the better--nothing could be better,' said the artist, for such he was, and the Count agreed with him. But it was not so easily done as said. Edmee could not at all see why she was to sit still on a stiff-backed chair when she so much preferred running about, and though she had jerked one dimpled shoulder out of the strap of her frock, she had by no means intended to keep it there, as the stranger insisted. Furthermore, she objected to looking up at him as he desired, and was on the point of telling him that he was not pretty enough to look at so much, when happily another idea struck her. "`Let Pierrot come in,' she said; `Pierrot can come and tell me a story, and then I'll sit still. Edmee always sits still when Pierrot tells her stories.' "`But how are we to get hold of him?' said the Count, whose patience was rather tried by her fidgetiness. `There is not time to send to the village, the light will be failing'--for it was already advanced in the afternoon--`and Mr Denis is so anxious to make the first sketch to-day.' "`Pierrot is not in the village; he is here at the door. Send for him and tell him to come in, and then Edmee will be so good--oh so good, and will sit so still!' "The Countess rang a little bell which stood on a side table; an old man servant soon came to see what was wanted. "`Is Pierre Germain still here?' she said; `if so, tell him to come in.' "In a moment Pierre made his appearance. His boots were thick and clumsy, and clattered on the shining polished floor; he held his cap in both hands, and stayed an instant at the door to make his bow and to wait the lady's pleasure. But, country boy though he was, he neither looked nor felt foolish or awkward, and the young artist, taking his eyes for a moment from his refractory little sitter, was struck by his bright face and fearless bearing. "`I would like to sketch him,' he said to himself. `It is not often one sees peasants of his type now-a-days among the half-starved, wolfish, and yet cowed-looking creatures they are becoming,' he added, though not so as to be heard by any one else, turning to the Count, who stood beside him. "`No, indeed,' replied the gentleman, and a look of anxiety crossed his pale, serious face. "`Come forward, my boy,' said Edmee's mother. `Why did you not come to see me before? You know you are always welcome.' "`I thought as Mademoiselle was sent for, perhaps there was company,' said Pierre smiling, while his sunburnt face grew ruddier. "`It was that naughty Victorine?' said Edmee, pouting; `she called my Pierrot a clodhopper. I don't like Victorine!' "`A clodhopper?' said the Countess; `no, indeed, she should not have said so; that comes of having a maid from Paris, I suppose. I think I shall keep to our own good Touraine girls for the future, even though they are not so clever. Now, Pierre, my boy, you are to help us to get Edmee to keep still; Mr Denis is going to paint her, just as she is now.'