sleeps outside. His vagabond ways no longer trouble my father or me. Besides, we are not surprised."
With a contraction at the heart the Count thought of the poor lad, benighted in a disreputable district.
"By-the-bye, Burgomaster," he said just as the farmer brought him his horse, "I wish to be one of your Musical Society."
"Do better, Count, be our president and protector."
"Agreed, I accept."
Thinking of Guidon, the Count had remembered the serenade of the night before last, and said to himself that it would be sweet to hear often that simple, melancholy air which the young shepherd played so well.
With one foot in the stirrup another idea occurred to him; something stuck in his heart. Was he to go away without approaching the real object of his visit?
"It is possible," he decided to say timidly to the farmer, "that your son has serious inclinations for music and drawing. Send him to me. Perhaps there may be a means of making something of him. I will try to civilise the little savage."
