begged you not to come out so late. Are you not afraid at
being alone on the roads at this time of night?"

She began to laugh. "Afraid," said she, "when the night is so mild and
healthful? Besides, wouldn't you rather have me here to kiss you ten
minutes sooner?"

Those simple words brought tears to Mathieu's eyes. All the murkiness,
all the shame through which he had passed in Paris horrified him. He
tenderly took his wife in his arms, and they exchanged the closest, the
most human of kisses amid the quiet of the slumbering fields. After the
scorching pavement of Paris, after the eager struggling of the day
and the degrading spectacles of the night, how reposeful was that
far-spreading silence, that faint bluish radiance, that endless
unrolling of plains, steeped in refreshing gloom and dreaming of
fructification by the morrow's sun! And what suggestions of health, and
rectitude, and felicity rose from productive Nature, who fell asleep
beneath the dew of night solely that she might reawaken in triumph, ever
and ever rejuvenated by life's torrent, which streams even through the
dust of her paths.

Mathieu slowly seated Marianne on the low broad parapet once more. He
kept her near his heart; it was a halt full of affection, which neither
could forego, in presence of the universal peace that came to them from
the stars, and the waters, and the woods, and the endless fields.

"What a splendid night!" murmured Mathieu. "How beautiful and how
pleasant to live in it!"

Then, after a moment's rapture, during which they both heard their
hearts beating, he began to tell her of his day. She questioned him with
loving interest, and he answered, happy at having to tell her no lie.

"No, the Beauchenes cannot come here on Sunday. Constance never cared
much for us, as you well know. Their boy Maurice is suffering in the
legs; Dr. Boutan was there, and the question of children was discussed
again. I will tell you all about that. On the other hand, the Moranges
have promised to come. You can't have an idea of the delight and vanity
they displayed in showing me their new flat. What with their eagerness
to make a big fortune I'm much afraid that those worthy folks will do
something very foolish. Oh! I was forgetting. I called on the landlord,
and though I had a good deal of difficulty over it, he ended by
consenting to have the roof entirely relaid. Ah! what a home, too, those
Seguins have! I came away feeling quite scared. But