ow sweet it is to love! They are a little tired;
for during the whole of this bright Sunday they have wandered through the
meadows. It is the hour for dinner, and here is a little tavern under
some lindens, where the whiteness of the napkins rivals the blossoming
thickets. They choose a table and order their repast of a moustached
youth. While waiting for their soup, Lucie, rosy from being out all day
in the open air and silent from hunger, amuses herself in looking at the
blue designs on the plates, which represented battles in Africa. What a
joyous dinner! There were mushrooms in the omelet, mushrooms in the
stewed kidneys, mushrooms in the filet. But so much the better! They are
very fond of them. And the good wine! The dear child is almost
intoxicated at dessert! She takes it into her head to squeeze a
cherry-stone between her thumb and first finger and makes it pop-slap!
into her husband's face! And the naughty creature laughs! But he will
have his revenge--wait a little! He rises, and leaning over the table
buries two fingers between her collar and her neck, and the mischievous
creature draws her head down into her shoulders as far as she can,
begging him, with a nervous laugh, "No, no, I beseech you!" for she is
afraid of being tickled. But the best time of all is the return through
the country at night, the exquisite odor of new-mown hay, the road
lighted by a summer sky where the whole zodiac twinkles, and through
which, like a silent stream, the Chemin de St. Jacques rolls its diamond
smoke.

Tired and happy she hangs upon her husband's arm. How he loves her! It
seems to him that his love for Lucie is as deep and profound as the
night. "Nobody is coming let me kiss your dear mouth!" and their kisses
are so pure, so sincere, and so sweet, that they ought to rejoice the
stars!

"Another glass of absinthe, boy--one more!"

And the unhappy man would forget for a few moments longer that he ought
to go back to his lonely lodging, where the servant had laid the table
some time before, and his little son awaited him, yawning with hunger and
reading a book placed beside his plate. He forgot the horrible moment of
returning, when he would try to hide his intoxicated condition under a
feint of bad humor, and when he would seat himself at table without even
kissing Amedee, in order that the child should not smell his breath.

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Break in his memory, like a book with several leaves to