he little
yards with their dunghills, and the narrow gardens planted with
vegetables. Higher up, the tall cypress in the graveyard reared its
dusky silhouette, and the red tiles on the church glowed brazier-like,
the dark bell looking down on them like a human face, while the old
parsonage at the side threw its doors and windows open to the evening
air.

'For pity's sake,' sobbed Albine, 'don't look out, Serge. Remember that
you promised you would always love me. Ah! will you ever love me enough,
now? Stay, let me cover your eyes with my hands. You know it was my
hands that cured you. You won't push me away.'

But he put her from him gently. Then, while she fell down and clung to
his legs, he passed his hands across his face, as though he were wiping
from his brow and eyes some last lingering traces of sleep. It was
yonder, then, that lay the unknown world, the strange land of which he
had never dreamed without vague fear. Where had he seen that country?
From what dream was he awakening, that he felt such keen anguish
swelling up in his breast till it almost choked him? The village was
breaking out into life at the close of the day's work. The men were
coming home from the fields with weary gait, their jackets thrown over
their shoulders; the women, standing by their doors, were beckoning to
them to hasten on; while the children, in noisy bands, chased the
fowls about and pelted them with stones. In the churchyard a couple of
scapegraces, a lad and a girl, were creeping along under the shelter of
the wall in order to escape notice. Swarms of sparrows were retiring
to roost beneath the eaves of the church; and, on the steps of the
parsonage, a blue calico skirt had just appeared, of such spreading
dimensions as to quite block the doorway.

'Oh! he is looking out! he is looking out!' sobbed Albine. 'Listen to
me. It was only just now that you promised to obey me. I beg of you to
turn round and to look upon the garden. Haven't you been very happy in
the garden? It was the garden which gave me to you. Think of the happy
days it has in store for us, what lasting bliss and enjoyment. Instead
of which it will be death that will force its way through that hole,
if you don't quickly flee and take me with you. See, all those people
yonder will come and thrust themselves between us. We were so quite
alone, so secluded, so well guarded by the trees! Oh! the garden is our
love! Look on the garden, I beg it of you on my knees!'