'Bring me the Benedit's elder son/ she demanded,
'I would know him before I die — and do not be too
long about it either.5
Goundran glanced at Elise who was soon to be
twenty, and in whose good judgment he placed much
reliance: cBut why does she want to know Christophe?'
he whispered, 'She has never until now shown the
slightest interest. . . .'
Elise shook her head: 'It seems to me strange —
yet I do not think that we ought to oppose her.5
And Goundran agreed, for although it did seem
strange, he greatly respected his landlady's wisdom.
Wise she most certainly was, the old Mathilde; she
could often divine the secrets of the weather, so that
many a sailor-man asked her advice, especially those
who sailed in the tartanes. Then again, she un-
doubtedly possessed second sight and could sometimes
see clearly into the future, discerning many things
which would make her feel sad, and others which
would make her feel very happy. And although
Madame Roustan thought her a witch —a belief
which was shared by quite a few people—there were
those who declared her to be a saint, testifying that
Mathilde had the gift of healing. Goundran thought
her neither a witch nor a saint, but merely a wise and
kindly old woman.
Many years ago she had come to Saint Loup as a
bride from her village in Normandy, where, of course,
there are many miraculous shrines, and where
people have even been known to see fairies. In those
days she had been full-bosomed and tall, a fine girl,
although no one was left to remember — for Mathilde
by living so unconscionably long, had survived all
the friends of her own generation. Her husband, a
saddler, had been dead for years; while her only
brother who had made a late marriage — becoming
the father of but one child, Elise — had lost his wife