light of the first words of welcome, and
the ecstasy of the prolonged embrace. A shiver ran through his whole
body; a sharp pain transfixed his heart; his throat closed convulsively;
half fainting, he leaned against the window-frame, his eyes closed, his
ears stopped, to shut out all sights or sounds, longing only for oblivion
and complete torpor of body and mind.

He did not realize his longing. The enchanting image of the woodland
queen, as he had beheld her in the dusky light of the charcoal-man's hut,
was ever before him. He put his hands over his eyes. She was there still,
with her deep, dark eyes and her enticing cherry lips. Even the odor of
the honeysuckle arising from the garden assisted the reality of the
vision, by recalling the sprig of the same flower which Reine was
twisting round her fingers at their last interview. This sweet breath of
flowers in the night seemed like an emanation from the young girl
herself, and was as fleeting and intangible as the remembrance of
vanished happiness. Again and again did his morbid nature return to past
events, and make his present position more unbearable.

"Why," thought he, "did I ever entertain so wild a hope? This wood-nymph,
with her robust yet graceful figure, her clear-headedness, her energy and
will-power, could she ever have loved a being so weak and unstable as
myself? No, indeed; she needs a lover full of life and vigor; a huntsman,
with a strong arm, able to protect her. What figure should I cut by the
side of so hearty and well-balanced a fellow?"

In these fits of jealousy, he was not so angry with Claudet for being
loved by Reine as for having so carefully concealed his feelings. And
yet, while inwardly blaming him for this want of frankness, he did not
realize that he himself was open to a similar accusation, by hiding from
Claudet what was troubling him so grievously.

Since the evening of the inauguration festival, he had become sullen and
taciturn. Like all timid persons, he took refuge in a moody silence,
which could not but irritate his cousin. They met every day at the same
table; to all appearance their intimacy was as great as ever, but, in
reality, there was no mutual exchange of feeling. Julien's continued
ill-humor was a source of anxiety to Claudet, who turned his brain almost
inside out in endeavoring to discover its cause. He knew he had done
nothing to provoke any coolness; on the contrary, he had set his wits to
work to show his gratit