The embroidered rose
Lies on my glove!

"My heart, Monsieur,
Will never rove,
I have promised it
To my own true love."

The embroidered rose
Lies on my glove.

"For me he braves
The wind and the rain;
For me he weaves
A silver chain."

On my 'broidered glove.
Lies the rose again.

Repeating the refrain in chorus, boys and girls danced and leaped in the
sunlight. Julien leaned against the trunk of a tree, listening to the
sonorous voice of Reine, and could not take his eyes off the singer. When
she had ended her song, Reine turned in another direction; but the
dancers had got into the spirit of it and could not stand still; one of
the men came forward, and started another popular air, which all the rest
repeated in unison:

Up in the woods
Sleeps the fairy to-day:
The king, her lover,
Has strolled that way!
Will those who are young
Be married or nay?
Yea, yea!

Carried away by the rhythm, and the pleasure of treading the soft grass
under their feet, the dancers quickened their pace. The chain of young
folks disconnected for a moment, was reformed, and twisted in and out
among the trees; sometimes in light, sometimes in shadow, until they
disappeared, singing, into the very heart of the forest. With the
exception of Pere Theotime and his wife, who had gone to superintend the
furnace, all the guests, including Claudet, had joined the gay throng.
Reine and Julien, the only ones remaining behind, stood in the shade near
the borderline of the forest. It was high noon, and the sun's rays,
shooting perpendicularly down, made the shade desirable. Reine proposed
to her companion to enter the hut and rest, while waiting for the return
of the dancers. Julien accepted readily; but not without being surprised
that the young girl should be the first to suggest a tete-a-tete in the
obscurity of a remote hut. Although more than ever fascinated by the
unusual beauty of Mademoiselle Vincart, he was astonished, and
occasionally shocked, by the audacity and openness of her action toward
him. Once more the spirit of doubt took possession of him, and he
questioned whether this freedom of manners was to be attributed to
innocence or effrontery. After the pleasant friendliness of the midday
repast, and the enlivening effe