reality which came upon them, there was the
wish to see each other face to face, to run through the open fields, and
return out of breath with their arms around each other's waist, clinging
closely together in order that they might the better feel each other's
love. One morning Silvere spoke of climbing over the wall, and walking
in the Jas with Miette. But the child implored him not to perpetrate
such folly, which would place her at Justin's mercy. He then promised to
seek some other means.

The wall in which the well was set made a sudden bend a few paces
further on, thereby forming a sort of recess, where the lovers would be
free from observation, if they were to take shelter there. The question
was how to reach this recess. Silvere could no longer entertain the idea
of climbing over, as Miette had appeared so afraid. He secretly thought
of another plan. The little door which Macquart and Adelaide had set up
one night long years previously had remained forgotten in this remote
corner. The owner of the Jas-Meiffren had not even thought of blocking
it up. Blackened by damp and green with moss, its lock and hinges eaten
away with rust, it looked like a part of the old wall. Doubtless the
key was lost; the grass growing beside the lower boards, against which
slight mounds had formed, amply proved that no one had passed that way
for many a long year. However, it was the lost key that Silvere hoped to
find. He knew with what devotion his aunt Dide allowed the relics of the
past to lie rotting wherever they might be. He searched the house for a
week without any result, and went stealthily night by night to see if
he had at last put his hand on the right key during the daytime. In this
way he tried more than thirty keys which had doubtless come from the old
property of the Fouques, and which he found all over the place, against
the walls, on the floors, and at the bottom of drawers. He was becoming
disheartened, when all at once he found the precious key. It was simply
tied by a string to the street door latch-key, which always remained in
the lock. It had hung there for nearly forty years. Aunt Dide must every
day have touched it with her hand, without ever making up her mind to
throw it away, although it could now only carry her back sorrowfully
into the past. When Silvere had convinced himself that it really opened
the little door, he awaited the ensuing day, dreaming of the joyful
surprise which he was preparing for Miet