cast loving eyes on
modern Paris. I was beginning to dream dreams, when the sound of a kiss
disturbed the solitude and put philosophy to flight. Down the sidewalk,
along the steep bank, above the rippling water, I saw beyond the
Ponte des Gobelins the figure of a woman, dressed with the daintiest
simplicity; she was still young, as it seemed to me, and the blithe
gladness of the landscape was reflected in her sweet face. Her
companion, a handsome young man, had just set down a little boy. A
prettier child has never been seen, and to this day I do not know
whether it was the little one or his mother who received the kiss. In
their young faces, in their eyes, their smile, their every movement, you
could read the same deep and tender thought. Their arms were interlaced
with such glad swiftness; they drew close together with such marvelous
unanimity of impulse that, conscious of nothing but themselves, they did
not so much as see me. A second child, however--a little girl, who had
turned her back upon them in sullen discontent--threw me a glance, and
the expression in her eyes startled me. She was as pretty and engaging
as the little brother whom she left to run about by himself, sometimes
before, sometimes after their mother and her companion; but her charm
was less childish, and now, as she stood mute and motionless, her
attitude and demeanor suggested a torpid snake. There was something
indescribably mechanical in the way in which the pretty woman and her
companion paced up and down. In absence of mind, probably, they were
content to walk to and fro between the little bridge and a carriage that
stood waiting nearby at a corner in the boulevard, turning, stopping
short now and again, looking into each other's eyes, or breaking into
laughter as their casual talk grew lively or languid, grave or gay.

I watched this delicious picture a while from my hiding-place by the
great elm-tree, and should have turned away no doubt and respected their
privacy, if it had not been for a chance discovery. In the face of the
brooding, silent, elder child I saw traces of thought overdeep for her
age. When her mother and the young man at her side turned and came
near, her head was frequently lowered; the furtive sidelong glances
of intelligence that she gave the pair and the child her brother were
nothing less than extraordinary. Sometimes the pretty woman or her
friend would stroke the little boy's fair curls, or lay a caressing
finger ag