med as
if I had always half-realised that a great fortune belonged to me. All
regular work wearied me; I was good for nothing except to run about the
fields and amuse myself. At last I took a great fancy for the painted
windows of our little church." Angelique interrupted him by laughing
gaily, and he joined her in her mirth for a moment.

"I became a workman like yourself. I had fully decided to earn my living
by painting on glass, and was studying for that purpose, when all this
fortune poured down upon me. My father was intensely disappointed when
my uncle wrote him that I was a good-for-nothing fellow, and that I
would never consent to enter into the service of the Church. It had been
his expressed wish that I should become a clergyman; perhaps he had
an idea that in so doing I could atone for the death of my mother. He
became, however, reconciled at last, and wished for me to be here
and remain near him. Ah! how good it is to live, simply to live," he
exclaimed. "Yes, to live, to love, and to be loved in return."

This trembling cry, which resounded in the clear night air, vibrated
with the earnest feeling of his healthy youth. It was full of passion,
of sympathy for his dead mother, and of the intense ardour he had thrown
into this, his first love, born of mystery. It filled all his spirit,
his beauty, his loyalty, his ignorance, and his earnest desire of life.

"Like you," he continued, "I was, indeed, expecting the unknown, and the
evening when you first appeared at the window I also recognised you at
once. Tell me all that you have ever thought, and what you were in the
habit of doing in the days that have passed." But again she refused,
saying gently:

"No; speak only of yourself. I am eager to know every petty incident of
your life, so please keep nothing back. In that way I shall realise
that you belong to me, and that I love you in the past as well as in the
present."

She never would have been fatigued in listening to him as he talked
of his life, but was in a state of joyous ecstasy in thus becoming
thoroughly acquainted with him, adoring him like a little child at
the feet of some saint. Neither of them wearied of repeating the same
things: how much they loved each other and how dearly they were beloved
in return. The same words returned constantly to their lips, but they
always seemed new, as they assumed unforeseen, immeasurable depths of
meaning. Their happiness increased as they thus made known