ation of her beauty, and
then he would go and shut himself up at Vivey, after burying at La
Thuiliere all his dreams and profane desires. But, even while the courage
of this immolation of his youthful love was strong within him, he could
not prevent a dim feeling of hope from crossing his mind. Claudet was not
certain that he was beloved; and possibly Reine's answer would be a
refusal. Then he should have a free field.

By a very human, but very illogical impulse, Julien de Buxieres had
hardly concluded the arrangement with Claudet which was to strike the
fatal blow to his own happiness when he began to forestall the
possibilities which the future might have in store for him. The odor of
the wild mint and meadow-sweet, dotting the banks of the stream, again
awoke vague, happy anticipations. Longing to reach Reine Vincart's
presence, he hastened his steps, then stopped suddenly, seized with an
overpowering panic. He had not seen her since the painful episode in the
hut, and it must have left with her a very sorry impression. What could
he do, if she refused to receive him or listen to him?

While revolting these conflicting thoughts in his mind, he came to the
fields leading directly to La Thuiliere, and just beyond, across a waving
mass of oats and rye, the shining tops of the farm-buildings came in
sight. A few minutes later, he pushed aside a gate and entered the yard.

The shutters were closed, the outer gate was closed inside, and the house
seemed deserted. Julien began to think that the young girl he was seeking
had gone into the fields with the farm-hands, and stood uncertain and
disappointed in the middle of the courtyard. At this sudden intrusion
into their domain, a brood of chickens, who had been clucking sedately
around, and picking up nourishment at the same time, scattered screaming
in every direction, heads down, feet sprawling, until by unanimous
consent they made a beeline for a half-open door, leading to the orchard.
Through this manoeuvre, the young man's attention was brought to the fact
that through this opening he could reach the rear facade of the building.
He therefore entered a grassy lane, winding round a group of stones
draped with ivy; and leaving the orchard on his left, he pushed on toward
the garden itself--a real country garden with square beds bordered by
mossy clumps alternating with currant-bushes, rows of raspberry-trees,
lettuce and cabbage beds, beans and runners climbing up their s