"Here he is," said Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun, pointing to Charasson, who was coming behind her with a basket and a little jar of pitch. "We have made more than fifty grafts, and there are some slips there that Sylvain picked up in the upper part of your garden. They were in what the gardener threw away after pruning his rose-bushes, and they will give us some lovely flowers, if our grafting isn't too badly done. You will look at it, won't you, father? for I am not very skilful yet." "Nonsense! you can graft better than I, with your little hands," said Monsieur Antoine, putting his daughter's pretty fingers to his lips. "That's woman's work, and requires more deftness than we men can manage. But you ought to put on your gloves, little one! Those wretched thorns have no respect for you." "What harm do they do, father?" said the girl with a smile. "I am no princess, and I am glad of it. I am freer and happier." Emile did not lose a word of this last sentiment, although it was uttered in an undertone for her father's ear only; and although he had stepped forward to meet little Sylvain and bid him a friendly good-morning. "Oh! I am doing very well," replied the page; "I was only afraid of one thing and that was that the mare might take cold after such a bath. But by good luck she seems all the better for it, and I was very glad of the chance to go into your little château and see the beautiful rooms and your papa's servants, who wear red waistcoats and have gold lace on their hats!" "Ah! that is what turned his head more than anything," said Gilberte, laughing heartily and disclosing two rows of little teeth as white and close together as a necklace of pearls. "Monsieur Sylvain here is overflowing with ambition: he has looked with profound scorn upon his new jacket and his gray hat since he saw your gold-laced lackeys. If he ever sees a _chasseur_ with his cock's feather and epaulets, he'll go mad over him." "Poor child!" said Emile, "if he knew how much freer, happier and honorable his lot is than that of the bedizened lackeys in the large cities!" "He has no suspicion that a livery is degrading," said the girl, "and he is not aware that he is the luckiest servant that ever lived." "I don't complain," rejoined Sylvain; "everybody is kind to me here, even Mademoiselle Janille, although she is a little watchful, and I wouldn't like to leave these parts, because my father and mother are at Cuzion, right near the house! But a bit of a costume, you know, makes a man over!" "So you would like to be dressed better than your master, would you?" said Mademoiselle de Châteaubrun. "Look at my father, how simple his dress is. He would be very unhappy if he had to put on a black coat and white gloves every day." "It is quite true that it would be hard for me to take up the habit again," said Monsieur Antoine. "But do you hear, Janille, my children? there she is shrieking to us to come to breakfast."