ects me as
if it were that of a Christian."

They took leave of the woodsmen, and reentered the forest. Reine kept
silence and her companion was at a loss to resume the conversation; so
they journeyed along together quietly until they reached a border line,
whence they could perceive the smoke from the roofs of Vivey.

"You have only to go straight down the hill to reach your home," said
she, briefly; "au revoir, Monsieur de Buxieres."

Thus they quitted each other, and, looking back, he saw that
she slackened her speed and went dreamily on in the direction of
Planche-au-Vacher.

CHAPTER V. LOVE'S INDISCRETION

In the mountainous region of Langres, spring can hardly be said to
appear before the end of May. Until that time the cold weather holds its
own; the white frosts, and the sharp, sleety April showers, as well
as the sudden windstorms due to the malign influence of the ice-gods,
arrest vegetation, and only a few of the more hardy plants venture to
put forth their trembling shoots until later. But, as June approaches
and the earth becomes warmed through by the sun, a sudden metamorphosis
is effected. Sometimes a single night is sufficient for the floral
spring to burst forth in all its plenitude. The hedges are alive with
lilies and woodruffs; the blue columbines shake their foolscap-like
blossoms along the green side-paths; the milky spikes of the Virgin
plant rise slender and tall among the bizarre and many-colored orchids.
Mile after mile, the forest unwinds its fairy show of changing scenes.
Sometimes one comes upon a spot of perfect verdure; at other times one
wanders in almost complete darkness under the thick interlacing boughs
of the ashtrees, through which occasional gleams of light fall on the
dark soil or on the spreading ferns. Now the wanderer emerges upon
an open space so full of sunshine that the strawberries are already
ripening; near them are stacked the tender young trees, ready for
spacing, and the billets of wood piled up and half covered with thistle
and burdock leaves; and a little farther away, half hidden by tall
weeds, teeming with insects, rises the peaked top of the woodsman's hut.
Here one walks beside deep, grassy trenches, which appear to continue
without end, along the forest level; farther, the wild mint and the
centaurea perfume the shady nooks, the oaks and lime-trees arch their
spreading branches, and the honeysuckle twines itself round the knotty
shoots of the hornbeam