He found the widow alone, sitting in a large easy-chair before the fire.

She was reading for the twentieth time a letter which Quenriebert had written her the evening before.

To judge by the happy and contented expression of the widow's face, it must have been couched in glowing terms.

Trumeau guessed at once from whom the missive came, but the sight of it, instead of irritating him, called forth a smile.
"Ah! so it's you, cousin ?" said the widow, folding the precious paper and slipping it into the bosom of her dress.

"How do you do?
It's a long time since I saw you, more than a fortnight, I think.