"Dear, beloved, paternal friend," said the pale Martin with a gush of tears, "did you but know the excruciating pain you give my heart by these questions, you would spare me. Will it not suffice, that I venerate your family, that it has long been my desire to be at your beloved side? you can guide, you can reform me; let my whole life be consecrated to you. I can, I dare not return, they would seize and sentence me to an ignominious death; my brethren too, the Camisards, distrust me and hold me for a traitor. Why put my poor parents to the blush, by naming them at this moment? They brought me up with tenderness and affection, and the more bitter must their sorrow be, to behold me degenerate, and liable to be executed. They are wealthy, but not of such high rank as to have their name disgraced by my humble services in my attendance on the noblest of men." "I will believe you, young man!" cried the Lord of Beauvais; "could such an eye as that deceive? Be to me in lieu of child, of son, perhaps soon----." He could not proceed from emotion, and Martin also appeared deeply moved. The repast was served up and Godfred also returned from his wandering loaded with poultry, and delicate vegetables, Eveline descended, who in her peasant's attire appeared very attractive; the Counsellor placed a chair for Martin, by the side of Eveline, saying at the same time, "My dear cousins, this young man belongs to me, he is related to me, and whatever expenses you may incur for him, I shall return to you again: only do me the favour to call him also cousin Martin and be kind to him." "Aye! aye!" Smiled Barbara, "last week, I could not have supposed, that all on a sudden my family would thus increase, sit down then, cousin Martin, and you Godfred, take care only not to make blunders before strangers." Grace was said, and the little Eveline made the sign of the cross, just as gravely as she saw the old people do; Godfred had prepared a separate soup for the invalid Martin, and would not allow him to eat of such meats as he deemed injurious to him. Godfred spoke little, he seemed as if he had almost entirely renounced the habit of speech in the society of his too loquacious spouse, but on that account he had imbibed the peculiarity of frequently expressing aloud, when a pause occurred, whatever was at that moment passing in the train of his thoughts, for he listened but seldom to Barbara's wonderful phraseology. "The fever will now be kept under," said he; just then Martin perceived that he was the subject of discourse, and the Lord of Beauvais would willingly have inquired more closely into the state of the invalid, if the dame had not again launched out into narrations and far-fetched ideas. "A little deeper and all would have been over," continued Godfred.