e stopped. She nimbly pulled herself up to him:

"Philippe, you are sad.... It's not about me, is it?"

"No," he confessed, frankly.

"I knew it," she said, without bitterness. "So much has happened these
last three days!... I no longer count with you."

He made no attempt at protest, for it was true. He thought of her
sometimes, but in a casual way, as of a woman whom one loves, whom one
covets, but whom one has no time to think about. He did not even analyze
his feelings. They were mixed up with all the other troubles that
overwhelmed him.

"I shall never forget you, Suzanne," he said.

"I know, Philippe. And I neither, I shall never forget you.... Only, I
wanted to tell you this, which will give you a little happiness:
Philippe, I give you my promise that I will face the life before me ...
that I will make a fresh start.... What I told you is happening within
me.... I have more courage now that I ... now that I have that memory to
support me.... You have given me happiness enough to last me all my
life.... I shall be what I should not have been ... an honest woman....
I swear it, Philippe ... and a good wife...."

He understood that she meant to be married and he suffered at the
thought. But he said to her, gently, after looking at her lips, her bare
neck, her whole charming, fragrant and tantalizing person:

"Thank you, Suzanne.... It is the best proof of your love.... I thank
you."

She went on to say to him:

"And then, Philippe, you see, I don't want to give my father pain....
Any one can feel that he has been very unhappy.... And the reason why I
was afraid, the other morning, that Marthe might discover the truth ...
was because of him."

"You need not fear, Suzanne."

"I need not, need I?" she said. "There is no danger of it.... And yet,
this enquiry.... If you were compelled to confess?..."

"Oh, Suzanne, how can you think it?"

Their eyes mingled fondly, their hands had not parted. Philippe would
have liked to speak affectionate words and especially to say how much he
hoped that she would be happy. But no words rose to his lips save words
of love; and he would not....

She gave a smile. A tear shone at the tip of her lashes. She stammered:

"I love you.... I shall always love you."

Then she released her hand.

Marthe, who had turned back, saw them standing together, motionless.

*
* *

When they emerged at the corn