band were playing cards. Aunt Lison was
sitting by them knitting, and the young people were leaning against the
open window, looking out at the garden as it lay bathed in light.

The shadows of the linden and the plane tree fell on the moonlit grass
which stretched away to the shadows of the wood.

Irresistibly attracted by the beauty of the sight, Jeanne turned and
said:

"Papa, we are going for a walk on the grass."

"Very well, my dear," answered the baron, without looking up from his game.

Jeanne and the vicomte went out and walked slowly down the grass till
they reached the little wood at the bottom. They stayed out so long that
at last the baroness, feeling tired and wanting to go to her room, said:

"We must call in the lovers."

The baron glanced at the moonlit garden, where the two figures could be
seen walking slowly about.

"Leave them alone," he answered, "it is so pleasant out of doors; Lison
will wait up for them; won't you, Lison?"

The old maid looked up, and answered in her timid voice: "Oh, yes,
certainly."

The baron helped his wife to rise, and, tired himself by the heat of the
day,

"I will go to bed, too," he said. And he went upstairs with the
baroness.

Then Aunt Lison got up, and, leaving her work on the arm of the easy
chair, leant out of the window and looked at the glorious night. The two
sweethearts were walking backwards and forwards across the grass,
silently pressing each other's hands, as they felt the sweet influence
of the visible poetry that surrounded them.

Jeanne saw the old maid's profile in the window, with the lighted lamp
behind.

"Look," she said, "Aunt Lison is watching us."

"Yes, so she is," answered the vicomte in the tone of one who speaks
without thinking of what he is saying; and they continued their slow
walk and their dreams of love. But the dew was falling, and they began
to feel chilled.

"We had better go in now," said Jeanne.

They went into the drawing-room, and found Aunt Lison bending over the
knitting she had taken up again; her thin fingers were trembling as if
they were very tired. Jeanne went up to her.

"Aunt, we will go to bed now," she said.

The old maid raised her eyes; they were red as if she had been crying,
but neither of the lovers noticed it. Suddenly the young man saw that
Jeanne's thin slippers were quite wet, and fearing she would catch cold:

"Are not your dear little feet cold?" he asked affectionately.

Aunt Liso