"`Ah yes,' said Germain, `but it is not always the majority that carries the day. Here, as everywhere, there are _some_ idle and discontented and turbulent spirits--enough to give trouble if they united with others. And I am assured that in no case is it the country people themselves that _start_ the thing. Poor creatures! they are mostly too ground-down and wretched to start anything. But they are ready to follow, though not to lead, and the fire of revolt once lighted by the secret emissaries sent for the purpose from Paris, soon spreads. Alas, I see not what is before us all--here even in our quiet, happy Valmont!' "Pierre, who had listened eagerly to his father's words, was on the point of replying when he suddenly started. They had been talking so earnestly that they had not heard footsteps coming up the few yards of lane which led from the village main street, till the new-comer was close to them, and Pierre, recovering from his first surprise, touched his mother on the shoulder. "`Some one is here, mother,' he said, as Madame Germain looked up from her knitting. `Can it be--yes, I think it must be--Nanette?' "`Yes, indeed,' said the young woman, holding out her hand with a smile. `I am not surely so changed as you, Monsieur Pierre. Had I seen you anywhere else I would not have known you, so tall as you have grown. And you, Monsieur and Madame, of course you are not changed at all; you do not look a day older.' "`Life passes quietly here, my good Nanette,' said the forester. `We do not wear ourselves out with wishing to be everything that we are not, as some do.' "`Ah no--you are wise,' said the girl. `And I--I cannot tell you how happy I am to be at home again. Even,' she added with a slight blush, `even if I were not going to be married'--for it was to fulfil an engagement made before she had gone to Paris that Nanette had returned--`it is so good to feel safe in one's own country.' "`Safe,' repeated Madame Germain; `but surely you were not _afraid_ in Paris?' "`I don't know,' said Nanette evasively, and yet with a half glance round as if she feared her words might be overheard; `I don't like Paris. It is not a place for good, simple people. All these new ideas!--ah, don't let us talk of all that. I have so much to tell you of our dear ladies; Paris or no Paris, it has been a terrible grief to me to leave them,' and her pretty bright eyes filled with tears. "`We were just talking of them when you came up,' said Madame Germain, `and wondering when we should see you. Sit down, my child; in our surprise at seeing you we are forgetting politeness, and you must be tired with your long journey.' "`When did you arrive?'