morning, according to agreement, Julien accompanied Claudet to
Auberive, where Maitre Arbillot drew up the deed of gift, and had it at
once signed and recorded. Afterward the young men adjourned to breakfast
at the inn. The meal was brief and silent. Neither seemed to have any
appetite. As soon as they had drunk their coffee, they turned back on
the Vivey road; but, when they had got as far as the great limetree,
standing at the entrance to the forest, Julien touched Claudet lightly
on the shoulder.

"Here," said he, "we must part company. You will return to Vivey, and I
shall go across the fields to La Thuiliere. I shall return as soon as
I have had an interview with Mademoiselle Vincart. Wait for me at the
chateau."

"The time will seem dreadfully long to me," sighed Claudet; "I shall not
know how to dispose of my body until you return."

"Your affair will be all settled within two or three hours from now.
Stay near the window of my room, and you will catch first sight of me
coming along in the distance. If I wave my hat, it will be a sign that I
bring a favorable answer."

Claudet pressed his hand; they separated, and Julien descended the newly
mown meadow, along which he walked under the shade of trees scattered
along the border line of the forest.

The heat of the midday sun was tempered by a breeze from the east,
which threw across the fields and woods the shadows of the white fleecy
clouds. The young man, pale and agitated, strode with feverish haste
over the short-cropped grass, while the little brooklet at his side
seemed to murmur a flute-like, soothing accompaniment to the tumultuous
beatings of his heart. He was both elated and depressed at the prospect
of submitting his already torn and lacerated feelings to so severe
a trial. The thought of beholding Reine again, and of sounding her
feelings, gave him a certain amount of cruel enjoyment. He would speak
to her of love--love for another, certainly--but he would throw into
the declaration he was making, in behalf of another, some of his own
tenderness; he would have the supreme and torturing satisfaction of
watching her countenance, of anticipating her blushes, of gathering
the faltering avowal from her lips. He would once more drink of the
intoxication of her beauty, and then he would go and shut himself up at
Vivey, after burying at La Thuiliere all his dreams and profane desires.
But, even while the courage of this immolation of his youthful love
wa