"I cannot say that at this moment," retorted Galuchet, shooting a killing glance at the fair Gilberte whom he found very much to his liking; "but frankly, this province is a little behind the times. The people are very dirty. Look at those barefooted, ragged children! In Paris everybody has shoes, and those who haven't any don't go out on Sunday. I tried to get something to eat at a house to-day: there was nothing except black bread that a dog wouldn't eat, and goat's milk that smelt decidedly rank. Those people have no shame, to live so miserably!" "May it not be that they are too poor to do better?" said Gilberte, disgusted by Monsieur Galuchet's aristocratic tone. [Illustration: _GALUCHET SURPRISED._ _Emile turned and saw Constant Galuchet, his father's secretary, who had just thrown his coat on the grass, and, having enveloped his head in a pocket handkerchief, was engaged in baiting his hook._] "It is rather because they are too lazy," he replied, somewhat bewildered by that suggestion, which had not occurred to him. "What do you know about it, pray?" retorted Gilberte, with an indignation which he did not understand. "This young woman is very piquant," he thought, "and her little air of determination pleases me immensely. If I should talk to her long, I would show her that I am no blockhead of a provincial." "Well," said Emile to Gilberte, while Constant hunted for worms under the stones, in order to bait his hook, "you have seen the features of a perfect idiot." "I am afraid he is more conceited than foolish," she replied. "Come, come, children, you are not indulgent," observed honest Antoine. "That young man is not handsome, I agree, but he seems to be a good fellow, and Monsieur Cardonnet is well satisfied with him. He is very obliging and has offered several times to do little favors for me. Indeed he once gave me a very nice line, such as we can't find hereabout; unfortunately I lost it before I went home, so that Janille scolded me that day almost as much as she did the day I lost my hat. By the way, Monsieur Galuchet," he added, raising his voice, "you promised to come to fish in our neighborhood; I don't disturb my fish much, I haven't your patience, so that you are likely to find some. I count upon seeing you one of these days; come to breakfast at the house and then I will take you to a good place; there are plenty of barbel, and they are good sport." "You are too kind, monsieur," said Galuchet; "I will certainly come some Sunday, since you are pleased to overwhelm me with your courtesy." And Galuchet, enchanted to have perpetrated that sentence, bowed as gracefully as he could and took his leave, after Emile had given him his message for his parents.