a regular hail, of
plums came down. Albine, standing in the midst of the downfall, received
plums on her arms, plums on her neck, plums on the very tip of her nose.
At this she could no longer restrain her laughter; she stood in the
midst of the deluge, crying 'More! more!' amused as she was by the round
bullet-like fruit which fell around her as she squatted there, with
hands and mouth open, and eyes closed.

It was a morning of childish play, of wild gambols in the Paradou.
Albine and Serge spent hours, scampering up and down, shouting and
sporting with each other, their thoughts still all innocence. And in
what a delicious spot they found themselves! Depths of greenery, with
undiscoverable hiding-places; paths, along whose windings it was never
possible to be serious, such greedy laughter fell from the very hedges.
In this happy orchard, there was such a playful straggling of bushes,
such fresh and appetising shade, such a wealth of old trees laden like
kindly grandfathers with sweet dainties. Even in the depths of the
recesses green with moss, beneath the broken trunks which compelled them
to creep the one behind the other, in the narrow leafy alleys, the young
folks never succumbed to the perilous reveries of silence. No trouble
touched them in that happy wood.

And when they had grown weary of the apricot-trees and the plum-trees
and the cherry-trees, they ran beneath the slender almond-trees; eating
green almonds, scarcely yet as big as peas, hunting for strawberries in
the grassy carpet, and regretting that the melons were not already ripe.
Albine finished by running as fast as she could go, pursued by Serge,
who was unable to overtake her. She rushed amongst the fig-trees,
leaping over their heavy branches, and pulling off the leaves to throw
them behind her in her companion's face. In a few strides she had
cleared the clumps of arbutus, whose red berries she tasted on her way;
and it was in the jungle of nettle-trees, medlars, and jujube-trees that
Serge lost her. At first he thought she was hiding behind a pomegranate;
but found that he had mistaken two clustering blossoms for the rosy
roundness of her wrists. Then he scoured the plantation of orange-trees,
rejoicing in their beauty and perfume, and thinking that he must have
reached the abode of the fairies of the sun. In the midst of them he
caught sight of Albine, who, not believing him so near her, was peering
inquisitively into the green depths.

'Wha