e Tecle rose and rang the bell: "Ask
Mademoiselle Marie," she said to the servant, "to be kind enough to put
on her hat and join us."

A moment after, Mademoiselle Marie entered, cast on the stranger the
steady, frank look of an inquisitive child, bowed slightly to him, and
they all left the room by a door opening on the lawn.

Madame de Tecle, while responding courteously to the graceful speeches
of Camors, walked on with a light and rapid step, her fairy-like little
shoes leaving their impression on the smooth fine sand of the path.

She walked with indescribable, unconscious grace; with that supple,
elastic undulation which would have been coquettish had it not been
undeniably natural. Reaching the wall that enclosed the right side of
the park, she opened a wicket that led into a narrow path through a
large field of ripe corn. She passed into this path, followed in single
file by Mademoiselle Marie and by Camors. Until now the child had been
very quiet, but the rich golden corn-tassels, entangled with bright
daisies, red poppies, and hollyhocks, and the humming concert of myriads
of flies-blue, yellow, and reddish-brown, which sported amid the sweets,
excited her beyond self-control. Stopping here and there to pluck a
flower, she would turn and cry, "Pardon, Monsieur;" until, at length, on
an apple-tree growing near the path she descried on a low branch a green
apple, no larger than her finger. This temptation proved irresistible,
and with one spring into the midst of the corn, she essayed to reach the
prize, if Providence would permit. Madame de Tecle, however, would not
permit. She seemed much displeased, and said, sharply:

"Marie, my child! In the midst of the corn! Are you crazy!"

The child returned promptly to the path, but unable to conquer her
wish for the apple, turned an imploring eye to Camors and said, softly:
"Pardon, Monsieur, but that apple would make my bouquet complete."

Camors had only to reach up, stretch out his hand, and detach the branch
from the tree.

"A thousand thanks!" cried the child, and adding this crowning glory to
her bouquet, she placed the whole inside the ribbon around her hat and
walked on with an air of proud satisfaction.

As they approached the fence running across the end of the field, Madame
de Tecle suddenly said: "My uncle, Monsieur;" and Camors, raising his
head, saw a very tall man looking at them over the fence and shading
his eyes with his hand. His robust limb