sant way it was.

The meal over, the party were free to run and play in the meadows; a
few stayed to help the farmer's wife to put away her earthenware. M.
Paul called me from among these to come out and sit near him under a
tree--whence he could view the troop gambolling, over a wide
pasture--and read to him whilst he took his cigar. He sat on a rustic
bench, and I at the tree-root. While I read (a pocket-classic--a
Corneille--I did not like it, but he did, finding therein beauties I
never could be brought to perceive), he listened with a sweetness of
calm the more impressive from the impetuosity of his general nature;
the deepest happiness filled his blue eye and smoothed his broad
forehead. I, too, was happy--happy with the bright day, happier with
his presence, happiest with his kindness.

He asked, by-and-by, if I would not rather run to my companions than
sit there? I said, no; I felt content to be where he was. He asked
whether, if I were his sister, I should always be content to stay with
a brother such as he. I said, I believed I should; and I felt it.
Again, he inquired whether, if he were to leave Villette, and go far
away, I should be sorry; and I dropped Corneille, and made no reply.

"Petite soeur," said he; "how long could you remember me if we were
separated?"

"That, Monsieur, I can never tell, because I do not know how long it
will be before I shall cease to remember everything earthly."

"If I were to go beyond seas for two--three--five years, should you
welcome me on my return?"

"Monsieur, how could I live in the interval?"

"Pourtant j'ai ete pour vous bien dur, bien exigeant."

I hid my face with the book, for it was covered with tears. I asked him
why he talked so; and he said he would talk so no more, and cheered me
again with the kindest encouragement. Still, the gentleness with which
he treated me during the rest of the day, went somehow to my heart. It
was too tender. It was mournful. I would rather he had been abrupt,
whimsical, and irate as was his wont.

When hot noon arrived--for the day turned out as we had anticipated,
glowing as June--our shepherd collected his sheep from the pasture, and
proceeded to lead us all softly home. But we had a whole league to
walk, thus far from Villette was the farm where he had breakfasted; the
children, especially, were tired with their play; the spirits of most
flagged at the prospect of this mid-day walk over chaussees flinty,
glaring, and d