ction.

The fact was that Claudet, although rejoicing at the turn matters had
taken, was verifying the poet's saying: "Never is perfect happiness
our lot." When Julien brought him the good news, and he had flown so
joyfully to La Thuiliere, he had certainly been cordially received by
Reine, but, nevertheless, he had noticed with surprise an absent and
dreamy look in her eyes, which did not agree with his idea of a first
interview of lovers. When he wished to express his affection in
the vivacious and significant manner ordinarily employed among the
peasantry, that is to say, by vigorous embracing and resounding kisses,
he met with unexpected resistance.

"Keep quiet!" was the order, "and let us talk rationally!"

He obeyed, although not agreeing in her view of the reserve to be
maintained between lovers; but, he made up his mind to return to the
charge and triumph over her bashful scruples. In fact, he began again
the very next day, and his impetuous ardor encountered the same refusal
in the same firm, though affectionate manner. He ventured to complain,
telling Reine that she did not love him as she ought.

"If I did not feel friendly toward you," replied the young girl,
laconically, "should I have allowed you to talk to me of marriage?"

Then, seeing that he looked vexed and worried, and realizing that she
was perhaps treating him too roughly, she continued, more gently:

"Remember, Claudet, that I am living all alone at the farm. That obliges
me to have more reserve than a girl whose mother is with her. So you
must not be offended if I do not behave exactly as others might, and
rest assured that it will not prevent me from being a good wife to you,
when we are married."

"Well, now," thought Claudet, as he was returning despondently to Vivey:
"I can't help thinking that a little caress now and then wouldn't hurt
any one!"

Under these conditions it is not to be supposed he was in a mood to
relate any of the details of such meagre lovemaking. His self-love was
wounded by Reine's coldness. Having always been "cock-of-the-walk,"
he could not understand why he had such poor success with the only
one about whom he was in earnest. He kept quiet, therefore, hiding his
anxiety under the mask of careless indifference. Moreover, a certain
primitive instinct of prudence made him circumspect. In his innermost
soul, he still entertained doubts of Julien's sincerity. Sometimes
he doubted whether his cousin's conduct had n