on the grass on Sundays, for Sandres was
employed at the sub-prefecture. And all at once the distinct recollection
came to him of an afternoon spent with her in a little wood on the banks
of the river.

They had set out in the morning, carrying their provisions in baskets. It
was a bright spring morning, one of those days which intoxicate one.
Everything smells fresh, everything seems happy. The voices of the birds
sound more joyous, and-they fly more swiftly. They had luncheon on the
grass, under the willow trees, quite close to the water, which glittered
in the sun's rays. The air was balmy, charged with the odors of fresh
vegetation; they drank it in with delight. How pleasant everything was on
that day!

After lunch, Sandres went to sleep on the broad of his back. "The best
nap he had in his life," said he, when he woke up.

Madame Sandres had taken the arm of Saval, and they started to walk along
the river bank.

She leaned tenderly on his arm. She laughed and said to him: "I am
intoxicated, my friend, I am quite intoxicated." He looked at her, his
heart going pit-a-pat. He felt himself grow pale, fearful that he might
have looked too boldly at her, and that the trembling of his hand had
revealed his passion.

She had made a wreath of wild flowers and water-lilies, and she asked
him: "Do I look pretty like that?"

As he did not answer--for he could find nothing to say, he would
have liked to go down on his knees--she burst out laughing, a sort
of annoyed, displeased laugh, as she said: "Great goose, what ails you?
You might at least say something."

He felt like crying, but could not even yet find a word to say.

All these things came back to him now, as vividly as on the day when they
took place. Why had she said this to him, "Great goose, what ails you?
You might at least say something!"

And he recalled how tenderly she had leaned on his arm. And in passing
under a shady tree he had felt her ear brushing his cheek, and he had
moved his head abruptly, lest she should suppose he was too familiar.

When he had said to her: "Is it not time to return?" she darted a
singular look at him. "Certainly," she said, "certainly," regarding him
at the same time in a curious manner. He had not thought of it at the
time, but now the whole thing appeared to him quite plain.

"Just as you like, my friend. If you are tired let us go back."

And he had answered: "I am not fatigued; but Sandres may be awake now."

A