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things that served
him to restore the chateau. In 1792 all the furniture of the house had
been taken or destroyed, for the pillage of the mansions in town was
imitated in the valley. Each time that the old man went to Troyes he
returned with some relic of the former splendor, sometimes a fine carpet
for the floor of the salon, at other times part of a dinner service, or
a bit of rare old porcelain of either Sevres or Dresden. During the last
six months he had ventured to dig up the family silver, which the cook
had buried in the cellar of a little house belonging to him at the end
of one of the long faubourgs in Troyes.
    That faithful servant, named Durieu, and his wife had followed the
fortunes of their young mistress. Durieu was the factotum of the
chateau, and his wife was the housekeeper. He was helped in the cooking
by the sister of Catherine, Laurence's maid, to whom he was teaching his
art and who gave promise of becoming an excellent cook. An old gardener,
his wife, a son paid by the day, and a daughter who served as a
dairy-woman, made up the household. Madame Durieu had lately and
secretly had the Cinq-Cygne liveries made for the gardener's son and for
Gothard. Though blamed for this imprudence by Monsieur d'Hauteserre,
the housekeeper took great pleasure in seeing the dinner served on the
festival of Saint-Laurence, the countess's fete-day, with almost as much
style as in former times.
    This slow and difficult restoration of departed things was the delight
of Monsieur and Madame d'Hauteserre and the Durieus. Laurence smiled
at what she thought nonsense. But the worthy old d'Hauteserre did not
forget the more solid matters; he repaired the buildings, put up the
walls, planted trees wherever there was a chance to make them grow, and
did not leave an inch of unproductive land. The whole valley regarded
him as an oracle in the matter of agriculture. He had managed to recover
a hundred acres of contested land, not sold as national property, being
in some way confounded with that of the township. This land he had
turned into fields which afforded good pasturage for his horses and
cattle, and he planted them round with poplars, which now, at the end
of six years, were making a fine growth. He intended to buy back some of
the lost estate, and to utilize all the out-buildings of the chateau by
making a second farm and managing it himself.
    Life at the chateau had thus become during the last two years prosperous
and almost happy. Monsieur d'Hauteserre was off at daybreaks to overlook
his laborers, for he employed them in all weathers. He came home to
breakfast, mounted his farm pony as soon as the meal was over, and
made his rounds of the estate like a bailiff,—getting home in time for
dinner, and finishing the day with a game of boston. All the inhabitants
of the chateau had their stated occupations; life was as closely
regulated there as in a convent. Laurence alone disturbed its even
tenor by her sudden journeys, her uncertain returns, and by what Madame
d'Hauteserre called her pranks. But with all this peacefulness there
existed at Cinq-Cygne conflicting interests and certain causes of
dissension. In the first place Durieu and his wife were jealous of
Catherine and Gothard, who lived in greater intimacy with their young
mistress, the idol of the household, than they did. Then the two
d'Hauteserres, encouraged by Mademoiselle Goujet and the abbe, wanted
their sons as well as the Simeuse brothers to take the oath and return
to this quiet life, instead of living miserably in foreign countries.
Laurence scouted the odious compromise and stood firmly for the
monarchy, militant and implacable. The four old people, anxious that
their present peaceful existence should not be risked, nor their spot
of refuge, saved from the furious waters of the revolutionary torrent,
lost, did their best to convert Laurence to their cautious views,
believing that her influence counted for much in the unwillingness of
their sons and the Simeuse