would suffice to speak
in a whisper in order to hear each other. The well echoed the faintest
breath. Leaning over its brink, they conversed while gazing at one
another's reflection. Miette related how sad she had been the last week.
She was now working at the other end of the Jas, and could only get out
early in the morning. Then she made a pout of annoyance which Silvere
distinguished perfectly, and to which he replied by nodding his head
with an air of vexation. They were exchanging all those gestures and
facial expressions that speech entails. They cared but little for the
wall which separated them now that they could see each other in those
hidden depths.

"I knew," continued Miette, with a knowing look, "that you came here to
draw water every morning at the same hour. I can hear the grating of the
pulley from the house. So I made an excuse, I pretended that the water
in this well boiled the vegetables better. I thought that I might come
here every morning to draw water at the same time as you, so as to say
good morning to you without anyone suspecting it."

She smiled innocently, as though well pleased with her device, and
ended by saying: "But I did not imagine we should see each other in the
water."

It was, in fact, this unhoped-for pleasure which so delighted them. They
only spoke to see their lips move, so greatly did this new frolic amuse
their childish natures. And they resolved to use all means in their
power to meet here every morning. When Miette had said that she must go
away, she told Silvere that he could draw his pail of water. But he did
not dare to shake the rope; Miette was still leaning over--he could see
her smiling face, and it was too painful to him to dispel that smile. As
he slightly stirred his pail, the water murmured, and the smile faded.
Then he stopped, seized with a strange fear; he fancied that he had
vexed her and made her cry. But the child called to him, "Go on! go on!"
with a laugh which the echo prolonged and rendered more sonorous. She
herself then nosily sent down a pail. There was a perfect tempest.
Everything disappeared under the black water. And Silvere made up his
mind to fill two pitchers, while listening to the retreating steps of
Miette on the other side of the wall.

From that day, the young people never missed their assignations. The
slumbering water, the white mirrors in which they gazed at one another,
imparted to their interviews a charm which long sufficed the