a turn in the alley shut out
the view of the house, and some tall shrubs excluded M. Pelet's
mansion, and screened us momentarily from the other houses, rising
amphitheatre-like round this green spot, I gave my arm to Mdlle. Reuter,
and led her to a garden-chair, nestled under some lilacs near. She sat
down; I took my place at her side. She went on talking to me with that
ease which communicates ease, and, as I listened, a revelation dawned
in my mind that I was on the brink of falling in love. The dinner-bell
rang, both at her house and M. Pelet's; we were obliged to part; I
detained her a moment as she was moving away.

"I want something," said I.

"What?" asked Zoraide naively.

"Only a flower."

"Gather it then--or two, or twenty, if you like."

"No--one will do-but you must gather it, and give it to me."

"What a caprice!" she exclaimed, but she raised herself on her tip-toes,
and, plucking a beautiful branch of lilac, offered it to me with grace.
I took it, and went away, satisfied for the present, and hopeful for the
future.

Certainly that May day was a lovely one, and it closed in moonlight
night of summer warmth and serenity. I remember this well; for, having
sat up late that evening, correcting devoirs, and feeling weary and
a little oppressed with the closeness of my small room, I opened the
often-mentioned boarded window, whose boards, however, I had persuaded
old Madame Pelet to have removed since I had filled the post of
professor in the pensionnat de demoiselles, as, from that time, it
was no longer "inconvenient" for me to overlook my own pupils at their
sports. I sat down in the window-seat, rested my arm on the sill,
and leaned out: above me was the clear-obscure of a cloudless
night sky--splendid moonlight subdued the tremulous sparkle of the
stars--below lay the garden, varied with silvery lustre and deep shade,
and all fresh with dew--a grateful perfume exhaled from the closed
blossoms of the fruit-trees--not a leaf stirred, the night was
breezeless. My window looked directly down upon a certain walk of Mdlle.
Reuter's garden, called "l'allee defendue," so named because the pupils
were forbidden to enter it on account of its proximity to the boys'
school. It was here that the lilacs and laburnums grew especially thick;
this was the most sheltered nook in the enclosure, its shrubs screened
the garden-chair where that afternoon I had sat with the young
directress. I need not say that my tho