a restless mixture; she was fond of musing, and, playful as
a young animal, was capable of arousing in men of all sorts desire
mingled with shyness.

The flood of reports concerning the death of the lawyer Fualdes left
her, at first, unmoved, although her father, by his purchase of the
domain of La Morne, seemed directly interested in the happenings, and
new accounts were brought to the chateau daily. The occurrence was too
complicated for her, and everything connected with it smelt too much of
the unclean. Only when the name of Bastide Grammont was first mentioned
did she prick up her ears, follow the affair, and have her father or
the servants report to her the supposed course of events, displaying
more interest than astonishment.

She knew nothing about Bastide Grammont. Nevertheless, his name, as
soon as she heard it, fell like a weight upon her watchful soul. She
began to make inquiries about him, ventured upon secret rides to La
Morne, and led one or another of his servants to talk about him; nay,
once she even succeeded in speaking with Charlotte Arlabosse, who was
free again at that time. What she learned aroused a strange, pained
astonishment; she had a feeling of having missed an important meeting.

In addition, she suddenly remembered having seen him. It must have been
he, if she but half comprehended the confused descriptions of his
person. It was a year ago, one early morning in the first days of
spring. Seized by the general unrest with which the vernal season stirs
the blood and rouses the sleeper sooner than his wont, she had wandered
from the chateau, over the vine-clad hills, into the woody vale of
Rolx. And as she strode through the dewy underbrush glistening with
sunshine, above her the warbling of birds and the glowing blue of the
celestial dome, beneath her the earth breathing like a sentient being,
she caught sight of a man of powerful build who was standing erect,
bareheaded, with nose in the air, and was enjoying with a preternatural
eagerness, with distended gaze, all that lay open for enjoyment--the
scents, the sun, the intoxicating dewiness, the splendor of the
heavens. He seemed to scent it all, sniffing like a dog or a deer, and
while his upturned face bore an expression of unfettered, smiling
satisfaction, his arms, hanging by his side, trembled as in a spasm.

She was frightened then; she fled without his perceiving her, without
his hearing the sound of her footsteps. Now the picture a