ce. This lesson sometimes lasted
until late. When the children showed themselves quite intractable, La
Teuse was summoned to frighten them with her broom.

On that particular Sunday, about four o'clock, Desiree found herself
quite alone in the parsonage. As she felt a little bored, she went to
gather some food for her rabbits in the churchyard, where there were
some magnificent poppies, of which rabbits are extremely fond. Dragging
herself about on her knees between the grave-stones, she gathered
apronfuls of juicy verdure on which her pets fell greedily.

'Oh! what lovely plantains!' she muttered, stooping before Abbe Caffin's
tombstone, and delighted with the discovery she had made.

There were, indeed, some magnificent plantains spreading out their broad
leaves beside the stone. Desiree had just finished filling her apron
with them when she fancied she heard a strange noise behind her. A
rustling of branches and a rolling of small pebbles came from the ravine
which skirted one side of the graveyard, and at the bottom of which
flowed the Mascle, a stream which descended from the high lands of
the Paradou. But the ascent here was so rough, so impracticable, that
Desiree imagined that the noise could only have been made by some lost
dog or straying goat. She stepped quickly to the edge, and, as she
looked over, she was amazed to see amidst the brambles a girl who was
climbing up the rocks with extraordinary agility.

'I will give you a hand,' she said. 'You might easily break your neck
there.'

The girl, directly she saw she was discovered, started back, as though
she would rather go down again, but after a moment's hesitation she
ventured to take the hand that was held out to her.

'Oh! I know who you are,' said Desiree, with a beaming smile, and
letting her apron fall that she might grasp the girl by the waist. 'You
once gave me some blackbirds, but they all died, poor little dears. I
was so sorry about it.--Wait a bit, I know your name, I have heard it
before. La Teuse often mentions it when Serge isn't there; but she
told me that I was not to repeat it. Wait a moment, I shall remember it
directly!'

She tried to recall the name, and grew quite grave in the attempt. Then,
having succeeded in remembering it, she became gay again, and seemingly
found great pleasure in dwelling upon its musical sound.

'Albine! Albine!---- What a sweet name it is! At first I used to think
you must be a tomtit, because I once ha