old tyrant left his bed to beat her, which token of conjugal regard she seemed to enjoy as a relic of early days, and a proof that he would long be spared to her.
She kept him exquisitely neat, and if any one gave her a plate of food, a little snuff, or any small comfort for her patient old age, she took it straight to the "master," and found a double happiness in giving and seeing him enjoy it.
She had but one eye, her amiable husband having put out the other once on a time as she was leading him home tipsy from market. The kind soul bore no malice, and always made light of it when forced to tell how the affliction befell her.
"My Yvon was so gay in his young days, truly, yes, a fine man, and now most beautiful to see in his clean bed, with the new pipe that Mademoiselle sent him. Come then and behold him, my superb master, who at ninety-eight has still this strength so wonderful."
The ladies never cared to see him more than once, but often met the truly beautiful old wife as she toiled to and fro, finding her faithful love more wonderful than his strength, and feeling sure that when