loomy valley of Ota. The path looked very
dangerous, and Julien proposed that they should go up on foot. Jeanne
was only too delighted to be alone with him after the emotion she had
felt, so the guide went on with the mule and horses, and they walked
slowly after him. The mountain seemed cleft from top to bottom, and the
path ran between two tremendous walls of rock which looked nearly black.
The air was icy cold, and the little bit of sky that could be seen
looked quite strange, it seemed so far away. A sudden noise made Jeanne
look up. A large bird flew out of a hole in the rock; it was an eagle,
and its open wings seemed to touch the two sides of the chasm as it
mounted towards the sky. Farther on, the mountain again divided, and the
path wound between the two ravines, taking abrupt turns. Jeanne went
first, walking lightly and easily, sending the pebbles rolling from
under her feet and fearlessly looking down the precipices. Julien
followed her, a little out of breath, and keeping his eyes on the ground
so that he should not feel giddy and it seemed like coming out of Hades
when they suddenly came into the full sunlight.

They were very thirsty, and, seeing a damp track, they followed it till
they came to a tiny spring flowing into a hollow stick which some
goat-herd had put there; all around the spring the ground was carpeted
with moss, and Jeanne knelt down to drink. Julien followed her example,
and as she was slowly enjoying the cool water, he put his arm around her
and tried to take her place at the end of the wooden pipe. In the
struggle between their lips they would in turns seize the small end of
the tube and hold it in their mouths for a few seconds; then, as they
left it, the stream flowed on again and splashed their faces and necks,
their clothes and their hands. A few drops shone in their hair like
pearls, and with the water flowed their kisses.

Then Jeanne had an inspiration of love. She filled her mouth with the
clear liquid, and, her cheeks puffed out like bladders, she made Julien
understand that he was to quench his thirst at her lips. He stretched
his throat, his head thrown backwards and his arms open, and the deep
draught he drank at this living spring enflamed him with desire. Jeanne
leant on his shoulder with unusual affection, her heart throbbed, her
bosom heaved, her eyes, filled with tears, looked softer, and she
whispered:

"Julien, I love you!"

Then, drawing him to her, she threw hers