house on the quay. An old foreman who
had occupied this pavilion, which still contained the simple furniture
of former days, had lately died. And the young folks, desiring to be
near their friend, worthy Dr. Boutan, had lived there for a month now,
and did not intend to return to Chantebled until the first fine days in
April.

"Wait a moment," resumed Mathieu; "I will let the light in."

He thereupon drew back one of the curtains, and a broad ray of yellow,
wintry sunshine illumined the dim room. "Ah! there's the sun! And it's
splendid weather--and Sunday too! I shall be able to take you out for a
little while with the children this afternoon."

Then Marianne called him to her, and, when he had seated himself on the
bed, took hold of his hand and said gayly: "Well, I hadn't been sleeping
either for the last twenty minutes; and I didn't move because I wanted
you to lie in bed a little late, as it's Sunday. How amusing to think
that we were afraid of waking one another when we both had our eyes wide
open!"

"Oh!" said he, "I was so happy to think you were sleeping. My one
delight on Sundays now is to remain in this room all the morning, and
spend the whole day with you and the children." Then he uttered a cry of
surprise and remorse: "Why! I haven't kissed you yet."

She had raised herself on her pillows, and he gave her an eager clasp.
In the stream of bright sunshine which gilded the bed she herself looked
radiant with health and strength and hope. Never had her heavy brown
tresses flowed down more abundantly, never had her big eyes smiled with
gayer courage. And sturdy and healthful as she was, with her face
all kindliness and love, she looked like the very personification of
Fruitfulness, the good goddess with dazzling skin and perfect flesh, of
sovereign dignity.

They remained for a moment clasped together in the golden sunshine which
enveloped them with radiance. Then Mathieu pulled up Marianne's pillows,
set the counterpane in order, and forbade her to stir until he had
tidied the room. Forthwith he stripped his little bedstead, folded up
the sheets, the mattress, and the bedstead itself, over which he slipped
a cover. She vainly begged him not to trouble, saying that Zoe, the
servant whom they had brought from the country, could very well do all
those things. But he persisted, replying that the servant plagued him,
and that he preferred to be alone to attend her and do all that there
was to do. Then, as he