"'Monsieur le neveu!' he cried; 'where are you? Come to me! I am
blind.'
"I approached. He felt me, with ten fingers, laying aside his staff.
"'And you would not take offence if a poor peasant like me embraced
you?'
"'Quick, Jalaguier!' I cried, throwing myself into his arms.
'Quick!' He pressed me till the joints started. Leaned upon his
broad chest, I heard the beating of his heart. It beat under my ears
with a burden like our bell at [126] Camplong. What powerful
vitality in Norine's grand! 'It does an old man good:--a good hug!'
he said, letting me go."
The boyish visitors are quite ready to sit down there to dinner:--
"With the peasant of the Cevennes (M. Fabre tells us) the meal is
what nature meant it to be--a few moments for self-recovery after
fatigue, a short space of silence of a quite elevated character,
almost sacred. The poor human creature has given the sweat of his
brow to extort from an ungrateful soil his daily bread; and now he
eats that well-savoured bread in silent self-respect.
"'It is a weary thing to be thinking always of one's work (says the
grand to the somewhat sparing Norine). We must also think of our
sustenance. You are too enduring, my child! it is a mistake to
demand so much of your arms.
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