nor in what style to address a girl of so
strange and unusual a disposition. So he contented himself with fixing
an enamored gaze upon her, while she stood leaning against one of the
inner posts, and twisted mechanically between her fingers a branch of
wild honeysuckle. Annoyed at his taciturnity, she at last broke the
silence:

"You are not saying anything, Monsieur de Buxieres; do you regret having
come to this fete?"

"Regret it, Mademoiselle?" returned he; "it is a long time since I have
had so pleasant a day, and I thank you, for it is to you I owe it."

"To me? You are joking. It is the good-humor of the people, the spring
sunshine, and the pure air of the forest that you must thank. I have no
part in it."

"You are everything in it, on the contrary," said he, tenderly. "Before
I knew you, I had met with country people, seen the sun and trees, and
so on, and nothing made any impression on me. But, just now, when you
were singing over there, I felt gladdened and inspired; I felt the
beauty of the woods, I sympathized with these good people, and these
grand trees, all these things among which you live so happily. It is you
who have worked this miracle. Ah! you are well named. You are truly the
fairy of the feast, the queen of the woods!"

Astonished at the enthusiasm of her companion, Reine looked at him
sidewise, half closing her eyes, and perceived that he was altogether
transformed. He appeared to have suddenly thawed. He was no longer the
awkward, sickly youth, whose every movement was paralyzed by timidity,
and whose words froze on his tongue; his slender frame had become
supple, his blue eyes enlarged and illuminated; his delicate features
expressed refinement, tenderness, and passion. The young girl was moved
and won by so much emotion, the first that Julien had ever manifested
toward her. Far from being offended at this species of declaration, she
replied, gayly:

"As to the queen of the woods working miracles, I know none so powerful
as these flowers."

She unfastened the bouquet of white starry woodruff from her corsage,
and handed them over to him in their envelope of green leaves.

"Do you know them?" said she; "see how sweet they smell! And the odor
increases as they wither."

Julien had carried the bouquet to his lips, and was inhaling slowly the
delicate perfume.

"Our woodsmen," she continued, "make with this plant a broth which cures
from ill effects of either cold or heat as if by ench