said another word to her since my one visit to her
father; I have only seen her once, for a moment, in the street. You
see there can be no question of trysting-places in this case. I was
wondering at her appearance when you awoke. It is luck, or a friendly
providence, that has used the beauty of the sunlight, the breeze, and
all the sweets of April to bring her, as it brought us, to the forest."

"And that is what fetched the tears?"

"Well, no."

"What, then?"

"I don't know."

"My full-grown baby, I will tell you. You are in love with her!"

"Indeed, Sylvestre, I believe you're right. I confess it frankly to you
as to my best friend. It is an old story already; as old, perhaps,
as the day I first met her. At first her figure would rise in my
imagination, and I took pleasure in contemplating it. Soon this phantom
ceased to satisfy; I longed to see her in person. I sought her in the
streets, the shops, the theatre. I still blinded myself, and pretended
that I only wanted to ask her pardon, so as to remove, before I left
Paris, the unpleasant impression I had made at our first meeting. But
now, Sylvestre, all these false reasons have disappeared, and the true
one is clear. I love her!"

"Not a doubt of it, my friend, not a doubt of it. I have been through it
myself."

He was silent, and his eyes wandered away to the faroff woods, perhaps
back to those distant memories of his. A shadow rested on his strong
face, but only for an instant. He shook off his depression, and his old
smile came back as he said:

"It's serious, then?"

"Yes, very serious."

"I'm not surprised; she is a very pretty girl."

"Isn't she lovely?"

"Better than that, my friend; she is good. What do you know about her?"

"Only that she is a bad dancer."

"That's something, to be sure."

"But it isn't all."

"Well, no. But never mind, find out the rest, speak to her, declare your
passion, ask for her hand, and marry her."

"Good heavens, Sylvestre, you are going ahead!"

"My dear fellow, that is the best and wisest plan; these vague idyls
ought to be hurried on, either to a painless separation or an honorable
end in wedlock. In your place I should begin to-morrow."

"Why not to-day?"

"How so?"

"Let's catch them up, and see her again at least."

He began to laugh.

"Run after young girls at my age! Well, well, it was my advice. Come
along!"

We crossed the avenue, and plunged into the forest.

Lampron had formerly ac