was an attempt to put his arm round her waist,
but to all appearance she was shocked, for she exclaimed:

"I'll make you put on your coat again if you don't behave yourself.
Aren't you ashamed? Why, there's mademoiselle looking at you!"

Thereupon Zephyrin turned to his raking once more. In truth, Jeanne
had raised her eyes towards them. Her amusement was palling on her
somewhat; the gravel thrown aside, she had been gathering leaves and
plucking grass; but a feeling of indolence crept over her, and now she
preferred to do nothing but gaze at the sunshine as it fell on her
more and more. A few moments previously only her legs, as far as the
knees, had been bathed in this warm cascade of sunshine, but now it
reached her waist, the heat increasing like an entrancing caress. What
particularly amused her were the round patches of light, of a
beautiful golden yellow, which danced over her shawl, for all the
world like living creatures. She tossed back her head to see if they
were perchance creeping towards her face, and meanwhile clasped her
little hands together in the glare of the sunshine. How thin and
transparent her hands seemed! The sun's rays passed through them, but
all the same they appeared to her very pretty, pinky like shells,
delicate and attenuated like the tiny hands of an infant Christ. Then
too the fresh air, the gigantic trees around her, and the warmth, had
lulled her somewhat into a trance. Sleep, she imagined, had come upon
her, and yet she could still see and hear. It all seemed to her very
nice and pleasant.

"Mademoiselle, please draw back a bit," said Rosalie, who had
approached her. "The sun's heat is too warm for you."

But with a wave of her hand Jeanne declined to stir. For the time her
attention was riveted on the maid and the little soldier. She
pretended to direct her glances towards the ground, with the intention
of making them believe that she did not see them; but in reality,
despite her apparent drowsiness, she kept watching them from beneath
her long eyelashes.

Rosalie stood near her for a minute or two longer, but was powerless
against the charms of the grating rake. Once more she slowly dragged
herself towards Zephyrin, as if in spite of her will. She resented the
change in manner which he was now displaying, and yet her heart was
bursting with mute admiration. The little soldier had used to good
purpose his long strolls with his comrades in the Jardin des Plantes
and round the