ul scene which had closed their last interview, and her
first impulse was to put herself on her guard. Her countenance darkened,
and she fixed a cold, questioning gaze upon Claudet, as if to keep him
at a distance. But, when she noted the sadness of her young relative's
expression, she was seized with pity. Making an effort, however, to
disguise her emotion, she pretended to accost him with the calm and
cordial friendship of former times.

"Why, good-morning, Claudet," said she, "you come just in time. A
quarter of an hour later you would not have found me. Will you come in
and rest a moment?"

"Thanks, Reine," said he, "I will not hinder you in your work. But I
wanted to say, I am sorry I got angry the other day; you were right, we
must not leave each other with ill-feeling, and, as I am going away for
a long time, I desire first to take your hand in friendship."

"You are going away?"

"Yes; I am going now to Langres to enroll myself as a soldier. And true
it is, one knows when one goes away, but it is hard to know when one
will come back. That is why I wanted to say good-by to you, and make
peace, so as not to go away with too great a load on my heart."

All Reine's coldness melted away. This young fellow, who was leaving
his country on her account, was the companion of her infancy, more than
that, her nearest relative. Her throat swelled, her eyes filled with
tears. She turned away her head, that he might not perceive her emotion,
and opened the kitchen-door.

"Come in, Claudet," said she, "we shall be more comfortable in the
dining-room. We can talk there, and you will have some refreshment
before you go, will you not?"

He obeyed, and followed her into the house. She went herself into the
cellar, to seek a bottle of old wine, brought two glasses, and filled
them with a trembling hand.

"Shall you remain long in the service?" asked she.

"I shall engage for seven years."

"It is a hard life that you are choosing."

"What am I to do?" replied he, "I could not stay here doing nothing."

Reine went in and out of the room in a bewildered fashion. Claudet, too
much excited to perceive that the young girl's impassiveness was only on
the surface, said to himself: "It is all over; she accepts my departure
as an event perfectly natural; she treats me as she would Theotime, the
coal-dealer, or the tax-collector Boucheseiche. A glass of wine, two or
three unimportant questions, and then, good-by-a pleasant journ