Then Frederick, addressing in turn all those who surrounded him, asked one if his fields were in a tillable condition, another if he hoped to preserve a great part of his vineyard, another still if the slime deposited on his land by the Loire had not somewhat compensated for the disaster from which he had suffered. To all Frederick said some word which proved that he had their interest and their misfortunes at heart. Marie, on her part, speaking to the women and mothers and children, found a word of affection and solicitude for all, and proved that like her son she had a perfect acquaintance with the sorrows and needs of each one. Frederick hoped to join the Marquis de Pont Brillant; he earnestly longed to press the hand of the man whom he had so long pursued with bitter hatred; it seemed to him that this frank expression ought to efface from his mind the last memory of the dreadful deed he had contemplated; but he could not find the marquis, whose carriage had also disappeared. After the departure of the valley people, Frederick, entering the house with his mother and David, found Marguerite, who proudly handed him a letter. "What is this letter, Marguerite?" asked the young man. "Read, M. Frederick." "You permit me, mother? and you also, my friend?" Marie and David made a sign in the affirmative. Frederick immediately cast his eyes upon the signature and said: "It is from the Marquis de Pont Brillant." "The very same, M. Frederick," interposed Marguerite. "Before departing in his carriage he came through the grove and asked to write you a word." "Come in the library, my child," said Marie to her son. David, Frederick, and his mother being alone, the young man said, innocently: "I am going to read it aloud, mother." "As you please, my child." "Ah, but now I think it is doubtless a letter of thanks," said Frederick, smiling, "and should not be read aloud." "You are right; you would suppress three-fourths of it," said Marie, smiling in her turn. "Give the letter to M. David, he will read it better than you." "Come," answered Frederick, gaily, "my modesty serves me ill. If it is praise, it will still seem very sweet to me." "That will be a punishment for your humility," said David, laughing, and he read what follows: "'As I had the honour of telling you, monsieur, I left my house in the hope of expressing my gratitude to you. I met the valley people, who were on their way to make an ovation for you,--you, monsieur, whose name has rightfully become so popular in our country since the inundation. I thought I ought to join these people and wait the opportunity to thank you personally. "'I should have accomplished this duty to-day, monsieur, without this interesting circumstance.