icult to reach.

And as they talked they went down the silent path, between the piles of
planks and the wall of the Jas-Meiffren. They never went beyond the end
of that narrow blind alley, but invariably retraced their steps. They
were quite at home there. Miette, happy in the knowledge of their
safe concealment, would often pause and congratulate herself on her
discovery.

"Wasn't I lucky!" she would gleefully exclaim. "We might walk a long way
without finding such a good hiding-place."

The thick grass muffled the noise of their footsteps. They were steeped
in gloom, shut in between two black walls, and only a strip of dark sky,
spangled with stars, was visible above their heads. And as they stepped
along, pacing this path which resembled a dark stream flowing beneath
the black star-sprent sky, they were often thrilled with undefinable
emotion, and lowered their voices, although there was nobody to hear
them. Surrendering themselves as it were to the silent waves of night,
over which they seemed to drift, they recounted to one another, with
lovers' rapture, the thousand trifles of the day.

At other times, on bright nights, when the moonlight clearly outlined
the wall and the timber-stacks, Miette and Silvere would romp about with
all the carelessness of children. The path stretched out, alight with
white rays, and retaining no suggestion of secrecy, and the young people
laughed and chased each other like boys at play, at times venturing even
to climb upon the piles of timber. Silvere was occasionally obliged to
frighten Miette by telling her that Justin might be watching her from
over the wall. Then, quite out of breath, they would stroll side
by side, and plan how they might some day go for a scamper in the
Sainte-Claire meadows, to see which of the two would catch the other.

Their growing love thus accommodated itself to dark and clear nights.
Their hearts were ever on the alert, and a little shade sufficed to
sweeten the pleasure of their embrace, and soften their laughter. This
dearly-loved retreat--so gay in the moonshine, so strangely thrilling
in the gloom--seemed an inexhaustible source of both gaiety and silent
emotion. They would remain there until midnight, while the town dropped
off to sleep and the lights in the windows of the Faubourg went out one
by one.

They were never disturbed in their solitude. At that late hour children
were no longer playing at hide-and-seek behind the piles of planks.
O