"Tell me thy name, little one," he asked presently, after a few moments'
pensive meditation.
"I have two names, monsieur."
"Thou must call me grandfather. And the two names?"
"Francois Gustave."
"I shall call thee Gustave."
"But papa always called me Francois, and mamma said it was the name of a
cruel man; but papa said he loved the name--"
"Ah, no more, little one!" cried the lord of Beaubocage suddenly;
"thou knowest not with what dagger-thrusts thou dost pierce this poor
old heart."
CHAPTER III.
GUSTAVE THE SECOND.
The little Gustave grew and flourished. Such love was lavished on him as
rarely falls to the lot of children, though the spring of many lives may
be rich in love's pure white blossom. The existence of this child seemed
all happiness. He brought hope, and a sense of atonement, and all sweet
things, to the quiet family at Beaubocage; and as he grew from childhood
to boyhood, from boyhood to manhood, it seemed to that household as if
the first Gustave of their love had never been taken from them. That
Orphic fable of Zagreus repeats itself in many households. For the one
bright creature lost another is given; and then comes a time when it is
almost difficult to separate the image of the missing one from the dear
substitute who so nearly fills his place.
Francois Lenoble and his wife enjoyed a green old age, and the affection
of their grandson made the cup of life sweet for them to the very dregs.
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