oar she waited every evening. As
soon as it left Monval station on its way to Janville, it gave token of
its coming, but so faintly that only a practised ear could distinguish
its rumble amid the other sounds rising from the country side. For
her part, she heard it immediately, and thereupon followed it in fancy
through every phase of its journey. And never had she been better able
to do so than on that splendid night, amid the profound quietude of
the earth's slumber. It had left Monval, it was turning beside the
brickworks, it was skirting St. George's fields. In another two minutes
it would be at Janville. Then all at once its white light shone out
beyond the poplar trees of Le Mesnil Rouge, and the panting of the
engine grew louder, like that of some giant racer drawing near. On that
side the plain spread far away into a dark, unknown region, beneath the
star-spangled sky, which on the very horizon showed a ruddy reflection
like that of some brasier, the reflection of nocturnal Paris, blazing
and smoking in the darkness like a volcano.

Marianne sprang to her feet. The train stopped at Janville, and then
its rumble rose again, grew fainter, and died away in the direction of
Vieux-Bourg. But she no longer paid attention to it. She now had eyes
and ears only for the road which wound like a pale ribbon between the
dark patches of corn. Her husband did not take ten minutes to cover
the thousand yards and more which separated the station from the little
bridge. And, as a rule, she perceived and recognized him far off; but
on that particular night, such was the deep silence that she could
distinguish his footfall on the echoing road long before his dark, slim
figure showed against the pale ground. And he found her there, erect
under the stars, smiling and healthy, a picture of all that is good. The
milky whiteness of her skin was accentuated by her beautiful black hair,
caught up in a huge coil, and her big black eyes, which beamed with all
the gentleness of spouse and mother. Her straight brow, her nose, her
mouth, her chin so boldly, purely rounded, her cheeks which glowed like
savory fruit, her delightful little ears--the whole of her face, full
of love and tenderness, bespoke beauty in full health, the gayety which
comes from the accomplishment of duty, and the serene conviction that by
loving life she would live as she ought to live.

"What! so you've come then!" Mathieu exclaimed, as soon as he was near
her. "But I