ds, and the Dufour family drove off.

"Good-bye, until we meet again!" the oarsman cried, and the answer they
got was a sigh and a tear.

* * * * *

Two months later, as Henri was going along the _Rue des Martyrs_, he saw
_Dufour, Ironmonger_ over a door, and so he went in, and saw the stout
lady sitting at the counter. They recognized each other immediately, and
after an interchange of polite greetings, he asked after them all.

"And how is Mademoiselle Henriette?" he inquired, specially.

"Very well, thank you; she is married."

"Ah!" ... But mastering his feelings, he added: "Whom was she married
to?"

"To that young man who went with us, you know, he has joined us in
business."

"I remember him, perfectly."

He was going out, feeling very unhappy, though scarcely knowing why,
when Madame called him back.

"And how is your friend?" she asked, rather shyly.

"He is very well, thank you."

"Please give him our compliments, and beg him to come and call, when he
is in the neighborhood."

She then added: "Tell him it will give me great pleasure."

"I will be sure to do so. Adieu!"

"I will not say that; come again, very soon."

* * * * *

The next year, one very hot Sunday, all the details of that adventure
which he had never forgotten, suddenly came back to him so clearly, that
he returned to their room in the wood, and he was overwhelmed with
astonishment when he went in. She was sitting on the grass, looking very
sad, while by her side, again in his shirt sleeves the young man with
the yellow hair was sleeping soundly, like some brute.

She grew so pale when she saw Henri, that at first he thought she was
going to faint, then, however, they began to talk quite naturally. But
when he told her that he was very fond of that spot, and went there very
often on Sundays, she looked into his eyes for a long time. "I, too,
think of it," she replied.

"Come, my dear," her husband said, with a yawn; "I think it is time for
us to be going."

THE LANCER'S WIFE

I

It was after Bourbaki's defeat in the East of France. The army, broken
up, decimated and worn out, had been obliged to retreat into
Switzerland, after that terrible campaign, and it was only the short
time that it lasted, which saved a hundred and fifty thousand men from
certain death. Hunger, the terrible cold, forced marches in the snow
without boots, over bad mountainous