ing until the
harvest is in."

"You are wrong. A wedding should not be postponed. Besides, this
prolonged love-making, these daily visits to the farm--all that is not
very proper. It is compromising for Mademoiselle Vincart!"

Julien shot out these remarks with a degree of fierceness and violence
that astonished Claudet.

"You think, then," said he, "that we ought to rush matters, and have the
wedding before winter?"

"Undoubtedly!"

The next day, at La Thuiliere, the grand chasserot, as he stood in the
orchard, watching Reine spread linen on the grass, entered bravely on
the subject.

"Reine," said he, coaxingly, "I think we shall have to decide upon a day
for our wedding."

She set down the watering-pot with which she was wetting the linen, and
looked anxiously at her betrothed.

"I thought we had agreed to wait until the later season. Why do you wish
to change that arrangement?"

"That is true; I promised not to hurry you, Reine, but it is beyond me
to wait--you must not be vexed with me if I find the time long. Besides,
they know nothing, around the village, of our intentions, and my coming
here every day might cause gossip and make it unpleasant for you. At
any rate, that is the opinion of Monsieur de Buxieres, with whom I was
conferring only yesterday evening."

At the name of Julien, Reine frowned and bit her lip.

"Aha!" said she, "it is he who has been advising you?"

"Yes; he says the sooner we are married, the better it will be."

"Why does he interfere in what does not concern him?" said she, angrily,
turning her head away. She stood a moment in thought, absently pushing
forward the roll of linen with her foot. Then, shrugging her shoulders
and raising her head, she said slowly, while still avoiding Claudet's
eyes:

"Perhaps you are right--both of you. Well, let it be so! I authorize you
to go to Monsieur le Cure and arrange the day with him."

"Oh, thanks, Reine!" exclaimed Claudet, rapturously; "you make me very
happy!"

He pressed her hands in his, but though absorbed in his own joyful
feelings, he could not help remarking that the young girl was trembling
in his grasp. He even fancied that there was a suspicious, tearful
glitter in her brilliant eyes.

He left her, however, and repaired at once to the cure's house, which
stood near the chateau, a little behind the church.

The servant showed him into a small garden separated by a low wall
from the cemetery. He found the Abbe Pern