"I hate him!" cried the girl, bounding up from her seat as if I had pronounced some talismanic word; "I hate him! He dared to take hold of me when my father was gone to get him the money he wanted from the other room, and asked me if I would go and live with him; and when I told him no, I would rather be catching-wench to a butcher's wife, he struck me on the face with his fingers, and called me a name that I must not speak. I never told my father, or I believe he would have stabbed him; but I hate him, and I shall ever hate him. Oh, seigneur!" she continued, turning towards me and clasping her hands together, "You have been very good and kind indeed to me and mine, and to all that I ever heard mention your name. It is such people as you that make us know what good people there can be; and I will try to show you that there can be gratitude in a poor little Jewish girl. I told my father, when he knew the people intended to murder him on the march from Jarnac, that if he would let me go and speak to you, you would be kind to him. He would not believe me for a long while; but he said that, if you were, you would be the first Christian that ever looked upon a Jew as anything but a dog. My father, however, can be grateful too, seigneur; and, though you may think that poor little Miriam has no power, yet in this business she may have more power than you know of." Our conversation went on for some time; and the girl, young as she was, spoke with a depth of feeling, a tenderness, an experience of the world and the world's ways, which was very extraordinary, mingled as it was with a sort of eager and imaginative wildness of manner and language, which probably she had acquired in the somewhat wandering and irregular life to which her father's pursuits subjected her. I looked upon the hopes and expectations that she tried to fill me with, of being able to do something in my behalf, as quite idle and vain; but still the gratitude that she showed was something pleasant to meet with, and I sent her away with thanks, and many a kindly speech in return. At the village of Berny, a short distance from Paris, the Jew, his daughter, and the innumerable packhorses which followed him, were to part with their companions of the way, he proceeding to the capital, and we by a side road to Champigny. He now, however, considered himself quite safe; and, when I had mounted to depart, he came up to the side of my horse, followed by Miriam, and prayed a blessing from God upon my onward journey. "I have heard from Monsieur Arnon," he said, in a low voice, "that the estate of Les Bois is yours, and that, for the time, I am only to call you Monsieur des Bois; but, whether you be at Champigny or at Les Bois, I hope you will not refuse to let me within your gates; for you have shown me kindness such as I have seldom found, and such as I shall never forget."