there!"

By degrees he was seized with a vague desire to go just once and see
whether it was really as pleasant there as she said, outside the walls
of the great city. One morning he said to her:

"Do you know where one can get a good luncheon in the neighborhood of
Paris?"

"Go to the Terrace at Saint-Germain; it is delightful there!"

He had been there formerly, just when he became engaged. He made up his
mind to go there again, and he chose a Sunday, for no special reason,
but merely because people generally do go out on Sundays, even when they
have nothing to do all the week; and so one Sunday morning he went to
Saint-Germain. He felt low-spirited and vexed at having yielded to
that new longing, and at having broken through his usual habits. He was
thirsty; he would have liked to get out at every station and sit down in
the cafe which he saw outside and drink a "bock" or two, and then take
the first train back to Paris. The journey seemed very long to him.
He could remain sitting for whole days, as long as he had the same
motionless objects before his eyes, but he found it very trying and
fatiguing to remain sitting while he was being whirled along, and to see
the whole country fly by, while he himself was motionless.

However, he found the Seine interesting every time he crossed it. Under
the bridge at Chatou he saw some small boats going at great speed under
the vigorous strokes of the bare-armed oarsmen, and he thought: "There
are some fellows who are certainly enjoying themselves!" The train
entered the tunnel just before you get to the station at Saint-Germain,
and presently stopped at the platform. Parent got out, and walked
slowly, for he already felt tired, toward the Terrace, with his hands
behind his back, and when he got to the iron balustrade, stopped to look
at the distant horizon. The immense plain spread out before him vast as
the sea, green and studded with large villages, almost as populous as
towns. The sun bathed the whole landscape in its full, warm light. The
Seine wound like an endless serpent through the plain, flowed round the
villages and along the slopes. Parent inhaled the warm breeze, which
seemed to make his heart young again, to enliven his spirits, and to
vivify his blood, and said to himself:

"Why, it is delightful here."

Then he went on a few steps, and stopped again to look about him. The
utter misery of his existence seemed to be brought into full relief by
the intense li