During the night that immediately followed Henri David's arrival at the farm, Frederick underwent a new transformation that very naturally disconcerted both his mother and M. David. Both were instantly struck by the change in the lad's expression. It was no longer haughty, sarcastic, and defiant, but embarrassed and crestfallen. Madame Bastien and David had anticipated a fresh ebullition of temper when Frederick's second interview with his tutor took place, but nothing of the kind occurred. David questioned the lad in relation to his studies; he replied promptly and definitely, but in regard to all extraneous subjects he maintained a determined silence. Marie proposed that he take a walk with David, and Frederick consented without the slightest demur. During the long walk the new tutor, whose stock of information was as extensive as it was varied, tried to call Frederick's attention to some of the most interesting phenomena of nature, a bit of rock serving as the starting-point for a dissertation on the most curious of the different ages of the earth and the successive transformation of its inhabitants, while an old ruin near the farmhouse led to a series of interesting comments on the warlike habits of the middle ages and the narration of a number of quaint old legends, to which his youthful companion listened politely but replied only in monosyllables. As soon as they returned Frederick picked up a book and read until dinner-time, after which he asked to be excused for the rest of the evening. On being left alone, David and Marie exchanged discontented glances, for both felt that the first day had proved a failure. "I am almost tempted to regret the change I notice in him," remarked David, thoughtfully. "Pronounced as his asperity of manner was, it nevertheless gave one a sort of hold, but what can one do confronted with a surface as hard and polished as glass?" "But what do you think of this sudden change?" "Is it the calm that follows the subsidence of the tempest or the treacherous calm which often precedes another storm? We shall know by and by. This change may be due to my arrival." "How is that, M. David?" "Perhaps he feels that our double surveillance will make another attempt at vengeance impossible; perhaps he fears that my penetration, united with yours, madame, would ferret out his secret, so he increases his constraint and reserve." "And the book you took to your room last night?" "Has given me a slight clue, perhaps, madame, but it is such a very weak and feeble one that I must ask you to pardon me for not even mentioning it. Ours is such a difficult and extremely delicate task that the merest trifle may make or mar us. So once more I implore you to forgive my reticence." "You ask my pardon, M. David, when your very reserve is a proof of your generous solicitude for the person I hold nearest and dearest on earth." As Madame Bastien was preparing for bed that same night, old Marguerite came in and said: