ounta

epartment of the Haute Auvergne. The mountain was volcanic-bare and blackened towards the west; grassy to the east and south; clothed with thick chestnut-woods about the

r heads in the shade, their feet in the sun, and the remains o

nd loftiest of all, though apparently farthest, the solitary summit of the Puy de Dome. Here and there a few scattered sheep or cows might be seen as mere moving specks on some green slope of high level pasture. Now and then, the faint bleating of a stray lamb, or the bark of a herdsman's dog, or the piping of some dista

rn, and the deep baying of many hounds, came sweeping up the ravine below. The sleeper

the elder of the three-a big, burly, sun-browned m

laimed one of the two younger herdsmen. "Here is the third time o

y and more faintly. Once more, and it was but a bre

the Gorge des Loups," s

round the hori

hadows are lengthening. 'Tis time we went dow

the cheeses which form the principal revenue of the landowners in this part of France; the boutilier who makes the butter; and the patre, or

d would be called a chalet. It is generally built of wood, and divided into three chambers, the first of which is for living and cooking in, and is provided with a rude fire-place and chimney; the second is for the cheese-making, and contains mi

owing that milking-time was come. Every cow-and there were fifty in all-was branded on the flank with a coronet and an initial P, thus showing them to be the property of the Countess de Peyrelade, a young and wealthy widow whose estates ext

lking being done, the men sat outside the Buron door, sm

ke a more skilful tongue than mine to describe her! She is m

, Père Jacques, and w

bride, a widow. I have carried her in my arms, and danced her on my knee, many and many a time. Ah! tha

ars ago, Father Jacques. How

d ten years ago. Ah, when she married the old Comte de Peyrelade and went away to the King's court, there was not a soul in the province but missed her. It was a blessing even to look upon her; she was so fair, so smiling, so gracious! From everybody you heard, 'Well, have you been told the news?

boutilier, who had h

Jacques, knitting his g

ould she bury herself for life in an old chateau? What will you bet that she does not go

oice; "I tell you she will neither marry nor

se vows?" asked the

d nine years ago in the Chateau de Pradines, the home

nearer, and the co

iage till his arrival-and sorely he repented of it afterwards! Monsieur George was as much disliked as his father and sister were beloved in the province; and the day when he had first left it was a day of rejoicing amongst us. It was late one evening when he arrived at the chateau, bringing with him an old gentleman. This gentleman was the Count de Peyrelade. As soon as supper was over, Monsieur George went to his father's chamber, and

to live, and before I leave thee I have a prayer to address to thee.' And as Mademoiselle kissed his h

ry, and fell on her knees at the foot of her fathe

daughter; she will obey my comman

to devote his life to her; and the p

t an hour after the Baron had died. I ran out to him, for I was a stableman in the chateau, and I told him all that had happened. As he listened to me, he became as pale as a corpse, and I saw him reel in his saddle. Then he plunged his spurs into his horse's flanks, and fled away like a madman in

imself devoutly, and his com

Madame la Comtesse de Peyrelade has retired at the age of twenty-five to live in

the heart to say a word; but the herdsman, who

why the Baron desired his daughter to marry the

e money to the Count de Peyrelade than his father could pay, and that he had sold the hand of his sister to defray the d

s determination. It is not her old husband that she grieves

s that the gentle soul has to bear, but present troubles also

e came suddenly into the midst of them. The mountaineer and the ecclesiastic were oddly combined in his attire; for with the cassock and band he wore leathern gaiters, a powder-pouch and a c

e cowkeeper, respectfully. "Welcome t

friend, not very,"

ive you fresh milk and bread, and new cheese. Ah dame! you will not find such

st, as he took his place beside them on the grass; "but upon one condition; namely, that y

sieur le Curé, because it is wicked to tell a lie, and because you are a holy man and will not be offended with me. We were talking of Madame and M. George, the present Baron de Pradines. He is

was wild in his youth; but he has repented. It was he who m

ts. He is here for no good, and no good will come of his return. It is certain that the old well in the courtyard of the chateau,

Curé superstitiously,

grew th

vere Winter, fell fluttering at the feet of the Curé. Then followed a crashing of underwood and a sound of rapid footsteps, and in another moment a gentleman appeared, parting the bushes and escorting a young lady who held the train of

ve killed the pretty creature if

t coloure

his partridge is wounded in the wi

tleman; the gentleman shrugged his shoulders a

d, lightly. "I am the c