between the young and the old man might be, however witty certain of Savinien’s answers, the young girl remained dumb until the twilight, her green veil lowered, her hands crossed over her shawl.
“Mademoiselle does not look as if she had been fascinated by Paris,” said Savinien finally, piqued.
“I am glad to return to Nemours,” she replied in a voice of emotion, raising her veil. In spite of the darkness, Savinien then recognized her by the size of her plaits and her shining blue eyes.
“And I, I leave Paris without regret to bury myself in Nemours, since I find my beautiful neighbor there,” he said. “I hope, Monsieur le Docteur, that you will allow me to call upon you; I love music, and I remember having heard Mademoiselle Ursule’s piano.”
“I do not know, monsieur,” said the doctor gravely, “whether your mother will wish to see you visiting an old man who is bound to feel all a mother’s anxiety for this dear child.”
This guarded reply gave Savinien much food for thought and he then remembered the kiss so lightly sent. The night had come, the heat was oppressive, Savinien and the doctor were the first to fall asleep. Ursule, who was awake a long time making plans, succumbed toward midnight. She had removed her little hat of ordinary plaited straw. Her head, covered with an embroidered cap, soon lay upon her godfather’s shoulder. At break of day, at Bouron, Savinien was the first to awaken. He then noticed Ursule with the disordered head
