He had had a cold last winter, and his wife with her poultices and fright had convinced him that he was a confirmed invalid.

The coming of her baby had given to the woman a motherly feeling toward all of the world, even to her husband.
"Look at these women," he said, going on with his fancy presently.

"I am sure that they were here wearing these black gowns and huge red aprons in the twelfth century.

What is this ?" he said, stopping abruptly, to a boy of six who was digging mud at the foot of an ancient ivy-covered tower.
"C'est le tour du Connetable," the child lisped.

"Et v'la, monsieur!" pointing to a filthy pen with a gate of black oak; "v'la le donjon de Clisson!" "Who was Clisson ?" said Lisa impatiently.
"A live man to Froissart--and to this boy," said George, laughing.