le hands
clasped on her bosom, looking as though she herself had drunk in all
the air that was stirring. Her breath failed her; with a rythmical
movement of the shoulders she kept time with the long strokes of the
swing. And she cried, "Quicker! quicker!" while her mother still went
higher, her feet grazing the lofty branches of the trees.

"Higher, mamma! oh, higher, mamma!"

But Helene was already in the very heavens. The trees bent and cracked
as beneath a gale. Her skirts, which were all they could see, flapped
with a tempestuous sound. When she came back with arms stretched out
and bosom distended she lowered her head slightly and for a moment
hovered; but then she rose again and sank backwards, her head tilted,
her eyes closed, as though she had swooned. These ascensions and
descents which made her giddy were delightful. In her flight she
entered into the sunshine--the pale yellow February sunshine that
rained down like golden dust. Her chestnut hair gleamed with amber
tints; and a flame seemed to have leaped up around her, as the mauve
bows on her whitening dress flashed like burning flowers. Around her
the springtide was maturing into birth, and the purple-tinted gems of
the trees showed like delicate lacquer against the blue sky.

Jeanne clasped her hands. Her mother seemed to her a saint with a
golden glory round her head, winging her way to paradise, and she
again stammered: "Oh, mamma! oh! mamma!"

Madame Deberle and Malignon had now grown interested, and had stepped
under the trees. Malignon declared the lady to be very bold.

"I should faint, I'm sure," said Madame Deberle, with a frightened
air.

Helene heard them, for she dropped these words from among the
branches: "Oh, my heart is all right! Give a stronger push, Monsieur
Rambaud!"

And indeed her voice betrayed no emotion. She seemed to take no heed
of the two men who were onlookers. They were doubtless nothing to her.
Her tress of hair had become entangled, and the cord that confined her
skirts must have given way, for the drapery flapped in the wind like a
flag. She was going still higher.

All at once, however, the exclamation rang out:

"Enough, Monsieur Rambaud, enough!"

Doctor Deberle had just appeared on the house steps. He came forward,
embraced his wife tenderly, took up Lucien and kissed his brow. Then
he gazed at Helene with a smile.

"Enough, enough!" she still continued exclaiming.

"Why?" asked he. "Do I disturb you?"