y flapped his wings,
and repeated, in his turn, in falsetto:

"Reine, queen of the woods!"

"Here I am, papa, don't get uneasy!" said a clear, musical voice behind
them.

The door had been suddenly opened, and Reine Vincart had entered. She
wore on her head a white cape or hood, and held in front of her an
enormous bouquet of glistening leaves, which seemed to have been gathered
as specimens of all the wild fruit-trees of the forest: the brown
beam-berries, the laburnums, and wild cherry, with their red, transparent
fruit, the bluish mulberry, the orange-clustered mountain-ash. All this
forest vegetation, mingling its black or purple tints with the dark,
moist leaves, brought out the whiteness of the young girl's complexion,
her limpid eyes, and her brown curls escaping from her hood.

Julien de Buxieres and his companion had turned at the sound of Reine's
voice. As soon as she perceived them, she went briskly toward them,
exclaiming:

"What are you doing here? Don't you see that you are frightening him?"

Julien, humbled and mortified, murmured an excuse, and got confused in
trying to relate the incident of the carriage. She interrupted him
hurriedly:

"The carriage, oh, yes--La Guitiote spoke to me about it. Well, your
carriage will be attended to! Go and sit down by the fire, gentlemen; we
will talk about it presently."

She had taken the light from the driver, and placed it on an adjacent
table with her plants. In the twinkling of an eye, she removed her hood,
unfastened her shawl, and then knelt down in front of the sick man, after
kissing him tenderly on the forehead. From the corner where Julien had
seated himself, he could hear her soothing voice. Its caressing tones
contrasted pleasantly with the harsh accent of a few minutes before.

"You were longing for me, papa," said she, "but you see, I could not
leave before all the sacks of potatoes had been laid in the wagon. Now
everything has been brought in, and we can sleep in peace. I thought of
you on the way, and I have brought you a fine bouquet of wild fruits. We
shall enjoy looking them over tomorrow, by daylight. Now, this is the
time that you are to drink your bouillon like a good papa, and then as
soon as we have had our supper Guite and I will put you to bed nice and
warm, and I will sing you a song to send you to sleep."

She rose, took from the sideboard a bowl which she filled from a saucepan
simmering on the stove, and then, without taking