to hasten matters. No doubt he also looked for something
supernatural to happen. It was this expectation upon which she now
lived, thinking each night that it would certainly come on the morrow.
Until now she had never rebelled. Still, at times she lifted up her head
inquiringly, as if asking "What! Has nothing yet come to pass?" And then
she pricked her finger so deeply that her hand bled, and she was obliged
to take the pincers to draw the needle out. When her needle would break
with a sharp little sound, as if of glass, she did not even make a
movement of impatience.

Hubertine was very anxious on seeing her apply herself so desperately
to her work, and as the time for the great washing had come again, she
forced her to leave her panel of embroidery, that she might have four
good days of active outdoor life in the broad sunlight. The _mere_
Gabet, now free of her rheumatism, was able to help in the soaping and
rinsing. It was a regular fete in the Clos-Marie, these last August
days, in which the weather was splendid, the sky almost cloudless, while
a delicious fragrance came up from the Chevrotte, the water of which as
it passed under the willows was almost icy cold. The first day Angelique
was very gay, as she beat the linen after plunging it in the stream;
enjoying to the full the river, the elms, the old ruined mill, the wild
herbs, and all those friendly surroundings, so filled with pleasant
memories. Was it not there she had become acquainted with Felicien, who
under the moonlight had at first seemed so mysterious a being, and who,
later on, had been so adorably awkward the morning when he ran after
the dressing-sacque that was being carried away by the current? As she
rinsed each article, she could not refrain from glancing at the gateway
of the Bishop's garden, which until recently had been nailed up. One
evening she had passed through it on his arm, and who could tell but he
might suddenly now open it and come to take her as she applied herself
to her work in the midst of the frothy foam that at times almost covered
her.

But the next day, as the _mere_ Gabet brought the last barrow of linen,
which she spread out on the grass with Angelique, she interrupted her
interminable chattering upon the gossip of the neighbourhood to say
maliciously:

"By the way, you know that Monseigneur is to marry his son?"

The young girl, who was just smoothing out a sheet, knelt down in the
grass, her strength leaving her a