r close to him, yet she
did not remove his arm; she did not think of it. Suddenly the nightingale
stopped, and a voice called out in the distance:

"Henriette!"

"Do not reply," he said in a low voice; "you will drive the bird away."

But she had no idea of doing so, and they remained in the same position
for some time. Madame Dufour had sat down somewhere or other, for from
time to time they heard the stout lady break out into little bursts of
laughter.

The girl was still crying; she was filled with strange sensations.
Henri's head was on her shoulder, and suddenly he kissed her on the lips.
She was surprised and angry, and, to avoid him, she stood up.

They were both very pale when they left their grassy retreat. The blue
sky appeared to them clouded and the ardent sun darkened; and they felt
the solitude and the silence. They walked rapidly, side by side, without
speaking or touching each other, for they seemed to have become
irreconcilable enemies, as if disgust and hatred had arisen between them,
and from time to time Henriette called out: "Mamma!"

By and by they heard a noise behind a bush, and the stout lady appeared,
looking rather confused, and her companion's face was wrinkled with
smiles which he could not check.

Madame Dufour took his arm, and they returned to the boats, and Henri,
who was ahead, walked in silence beside the young girl. At last they got
back to Bezons. Monsieur Dufour, who was now sober, was waiting for them
very impatiently, while the young man with the yellow hair was having a
mouthful of something to eat before leaving the inn. The carriage was
waiting in the yard, and the grandmother, who had already got in, was
very frightened at the thought of being overtaken by night before they
reached Paris, as the outskirts were not safe.

They all shook bands, and the Dufour family drove off.

"Good-by, until we meet again!" the oarsmen cried, and the answer they
got was a sigh and a tear.

Two months later, as Henri was going along the Rue des Martyrs, he saw
Dufour, Ironmonger, over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout
lady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, and
after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all.

"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired specially.

"Very well, thank you; she is married."

"Ah!" He felt a certain emotion, but said: "Whom did she marry?"

"That young man who accompanied us, you know; h