at, during this last meeting, under the
oppression of parting, something more might be attempted.

On the contrary, at the instant so full of concentration of their
farewell, they felt more chaste still, so eternal was their love.

Less prudent, however, since they had not to care for the morrow, they
dared to talk there, on their lovers' bench, as they had never done
before. They talked of the future, of a future which was for them very
distant, because, at their age, three years seem infinite.

In three years, at his return, she would be twenty; then, if her mother
persisted to refuse in an absolute manner, at the end of a year she
would use her right of majority, it was between them an agreed and a
sworn thing.

The means of correspondence, during the long absence of Ramuntcho,
preoccupied them a great deal: between them, everything was so
complicated by obstacles and secrets!--Arrochkoa, their only possible
intermediary, had promised his help; but he was so changeable, so
uncertain!--Oh, if he were to fail!--And then, would he consent to send
sealed letters?--If he did not consent there would be no pleasure in
writing.--In our time, when communications are easy and constant, there
are no more of these complete separations similar to the one which
theirs would be; they were to say to each other a very solemn farewell,
like the one which the lovers of other days said, the lovers of the
days when there were lands without post-offices, and distances that
frightened one. The fortunate time when they should see each other again
appeared to them situated far off, far off, in the depths of duration;
yet, because of the faith which they had in each other, they expected
this with a tranquil assurance, as the faithful expect celestial life.

But the least things of their last evening acquired in their minds
a singular importance; as this farewell came near, all grew and was
exaggerated for them, as happens in the expectation of death. The slight
sounds and the aspects of the night seemed to them particular and, in
spite of them, were engraving themselves forever in their memory. The
song of the crickets had a characteristic which it seemed to them they
had never heard before. In the nocturnal sonority, the barking of
a watch-dog, coming from some distant farm, made them shiver with a
melancholy fright. And Ramuntcho was to carry with him in his exile,
to preserve later with a desolate attachment, a certain stem of grass
p