he melody for which the
chevalier had so imprudently manifested his enthusiasm.

In exchange, he saw the door of the room above (which we have said led
on to the terrace) open, and a hand was stretched out, evidently to
ascertain what kind of weather it was. The answer of the weather seemed
reassuring, for the hand was almost directly followed by a head covered
by a little chintz cap, tied on the forehead by a violet ribbon; and the
head was only a few instants in advance of a neck and shoulders clothed
in a kind of dressing-gown of the same stuff as the cap. This was not
quite enough to enable the chevalier to decide to which sex the
individual, who seemed so cautious about exposing himself to the morning
air, belonged. At last, a sort of sunbeam having slipped out between two
clouds, the timid inhabitant of the terrace appeared to be encouraged to
come out altogether. D'Harmental then saw, by his black velvet
knee-breeches, and by his silk stockings, that the personage who had
just entered on the scene was of the masculine gender.

It was the gardener of whom we spoke. The bad weather of the preceding
days had, without doubt, deprived him of his morning walk, and had
prevented him from giving his garden his ordinary attention, for he
began to walk round it with a visible fear of finding some accident
produced by the wind or rain; but, after a careful inspection of the
fountain, the grotto, and the arbor, which were its three principal
ornaments, the excellent face of the gardener was lighted by a ray of
joy, as the weather was by the ray of sun. He perceived, not only that
everything was in its place, but that the reservoir was full to
overflowing. He thought he might indulge in playing his fountain, a
treat which, ordinarily, following the example of Louis XIV., he only
allowed himself on Sundays. He turned the cock, and the jet raised
itself majestically to the height of four or five feet. The good man was
so delighted that he began to sing the burden of an old pastoral song
which D'Harmental had heard when he was a baby, and, while repeating--

"Let me go
And let me play
Beneath the hazel-tree,"

he ran to the window, and called aloud, "Bathilde! Bathilde!"

The chevalier understood that there was a communication between the
rooms on the third and fourth stories, and some relation between the
gardener and the musician, and thought that perhaps if he remained at
the window she would not come on to