ning, Monsieur de Lucan, who, as usual, had risen quite early,
had been writing for some time near the library window, which opened at
quite a moderate height on the garden. He was not a little surprised to
see his step-daughter's face appear among the honeysuckle vines that crept
over the iron trellis of the balcony:

"Monsieur," she said in her most melodious tone, "are you very busy?"

"Oh, not at all!" he replied, rising at the same time.

"It's because, you see, the weather is perfectly delightful," she said.
"Will you come and take a walk with me?"

"Of course I will."

"Well, come then. Good Heavens! how sweet this honeysuckle does smell!"

And she snatched off a few flowers, which she threw to Lucan through the
window, with a burst of laughter. He fastened them in his button-hole,
making the gesture of a man who understands nothing of what is going on,
but who has no reason to be angry.

He found her in fresh morning costume, stamping upon the sand with her
light and impatient foot.

"Monsieur de Lucan," she cries, gayly, "my mother wishes me to be amiable
with you, my husband wishes it, Heaven wills it, too, I suppose; that's
why I am willing also, and I assure you that I can be very amiable when I
try. You'll see!"

"Is it possible?" said Lucan.

"You'll see, sir!" she replied, dropping him with all possible grace, a
regular stage curtsey.

"And where are we going, pray, madam?"

"Wherever you like--through the woods, at random, if you please."

The wooded hills came so close to the chateau, that they bordered with a
fringe of shade one side of the yard. Monsieur de Lucan and Julia took the
first path that came in their way; but it was not long before Julia left
the beaten road-way, to walk at hazard from tree to tree, wandering at
random, beating the thickets with her cane, picking flowers or leaves,
stopping in ecstasy before the luminous bands that striped here and there
the mossy carpets, frankly intoxicated with movement, open air, sunshine,
and youth. While walking, she cast to her companion words of pleasant
fellowship, playful interpellation, childish jests, and caused the woods
to ring again with the melody of her laughter.

In her admiration for the wild flowers, she had gradually collected a
regular bundle, of which Monsieur de Lucan accepted the burden with
cheerful resignation. Noticing that he was almost bending under the
weight, she sat down upon the gnarled roots of an old oak,