s countenance, seeking eagerly for some trace of the impressions he
had received during the loving interview. His curiosity was nearly always
baffled; for Claudet seemed to have left all his gayety and
conversational powers at La Thuiliere. During their tete-a-tete meals, he
hardly spoke at all, maintaining a reserved attitude and a taciturn
countenance. Julien, provoked at this unexpected sobriety, privately
accused his cousin of dissimulation, and of trying to conceal his
happiness. His jealousy so blinded him that he considered the silence of
Claudet as pure hypocrisy not recognizing that it was assumed for the
purpose of concealing some unpleasantness rather than satisfaction.

The fact was that Claudet, although rejoicing at the turn matters had
taken, was verifying the poet's saying: "Never is perfect happiness our
lot." When Julien brought him the good news, and he had flown so joyfully
to La Thuiliere, he had certainly been cordially received by Reine, but,
nevertheless, he had noticed with surprise an absent and dreamy look in
her eyes, which did not agree with his idea of a first interview of
lovers. When he wished to express his affection in the vivacious and
significant manner ordinarily employed among the peasantry, that is to
say, by vigorous embracing and resounding kisses, he met with unexpected
resistance.

"Keep quiet!" was the order, "and let us talk rationally!"

He obeyed, although not agreeing in her view of the reserve to be
maintained between lovers; but, he made up his mind to return to the
charge and triumph over her bashful scruples. In fact, he began again the
very next day, and his impetuous ardor encountered the same refusal in
the same firm, though affectionate manner. He ventured to complain,
telling Reine that she did not love him as she ought.

"If I did not feel friendly toward you," replied the young girl,
laconically, "should I have allowed you to talk to me of marriage?"

Then, seeing that he looked vexed and worried, and realizing that she was
perhaps treating him too roughly, she continued, more gently:

"Remember, Claudet, that I am living all alone at the farm. That obliges
me to have more reserve than a girl whose mother is with her. So you must
not be offended if I do not behave exactly as others might, and rest
assured that it will not prevent me from being a good wife to you, when
we are married."

"Well, now," thought Claudet, as he was returning despondently to Vivey