the realization was doubtful; now, all was
arranged, settled, cruelly certain; there was no way of escaping from a
promise which Claudet, alas! was bound to consider a serious one. These
thoughts traversed her mind, while the cure was slowly approaching the
filbert-trees; she felt her heart throb, and her eyes again filled with
tears. Yet her pride would not allow that the Abbe should witness her
irresolution and weeping; she made an effort, overcame the momentary
weakness, and addressed the priest in an almost cheerful voice:

"Monsieur le Cure, I am sorry that they have made you come up this hill
to find me. Let us go back to the farm, and I will offer you a cup of
coffee."

"No, my child," replied the Abbe, motioning with his hand that she
should stay where she was, "no, thank you! I will not take anything.
Remain where you are.

"I wish to talk to you, and we shall be less liable to be disturbed
here."

There were two rustic seats under the nut-trees; the cure took one and
asked Reine to take the other, opposite to him. There they were,
under the thick, verdant branches, hidden from indiscreet passers-by,
surrounded by silence, installed as in a confessional.

The morning quiet, the solitude, the half light, all invited meditation
and confidence; nevertheless the young girl and the priest sat
motionless; both agitated and embarrassed and watching each other
without uttering a sound. It was Reine who first broke the silence.

"You have seen Claudet, Monsieur le Cure?"

"Yes, yes!" replied the Abbe, sighing deeply.

"He--spoke to you of our-plans," continued the young girl, in a
quavering voice, "and you fixed the day?"

"No, my child, we settled nothing. I wanted to see you first, and
converse with you about something very important."

The Abbe hesitated, rubbed a spot of mud off his soutane, raised his
shoulders like a man lifting a heavy burden, then gave a deep cough.

"My dear child," continued he at length, prudently dropping his voice a
tone lower, "I will begin by repeating to you what I said yesterday
to Claudet Sejournant: the marriage, that is to say, the indissoluble
union, of man and woman before God, is one of the most solemn and
serious acts of life. The Church has constituted it a sacrament, which
she administers only on certain formal conditions. Before entering into
this bond, one ought, as we are taught by Holy Writ, to sound the heart,
subject the very inmost of the soul to searching