"'Yes, mon grand, it is I! The heat was growing greater every
moment, and I have taken in the goats.'
"Norine unclosed the window. A broad light spread over the floor of
beaten earth, like a white cloth. The cottage was illuminated. I
saw an old man seated on a wooden stool in a recess, where an ample
serge curtain concealed a bed. He held himself slightly bent, the
two hands held forth, one over the other, on the knob of a knotty
staff, highly polished. In spite of eighty years, Norine's
grandfather--le grand, as they say up there--had not lost a hair:
beautiful white locks fell over his shoulders--crisp, thick,
outspread. I thought of those fine wigs of tow or hemp with which
the distaff of [126] our Prudence was always entangled. He was close
shaved, after the manner of our peasants; and the entire mask was to
be seen disengaged, all its admirable lines free, commanded by a
full-sized nose, below which the good, thick lips were smiling, full
of kindness. The eyes, however, though still clear and soft in
expression, had a certain fixity which startled me. He raised
himself. His stature seemed to me beyond proportion. He was really
beautiful, with the contentment of his face, straight as the trunk of
a chestnut, his old velvet coat thrown back, his shirt of coarse
cloth open at the breast, so that one saw the play of the ribs.
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