the old workman, and even then
she continued to laugh as she bent over the water, again splashing
herself as she shook the clothes hither and thither, rejoicing in the
brightness of the happy day.

On the morrow he came an hour earlier. But at five o'clock in the
morning the linen, which had been dripping all night, was spread out on
the grass. There was a brisk wind, which was excellent for drying. But
in order that the different articles need not be blown away, they were
kept in place by putting little pebbles on their four corners. The whole
wash was there, looking of a dazzling whiteness among the green herbage,
having a strong odour of plants about it, and making the meadow as if it
had suddenly blossomed out into a snowy covering of daisies.

When Angelique came to look at it after breakfast, she was distressed,
for so strong had become the gusts of wind that all threatened to be
carried away. Already a sheet had started, and several napkins had gone
to fasten themselves to the branches of a willow. She fortunately caught
them, but then the handkerchiefs began to fly. There was no one to help
her; she was so frightened that she lost all her presence of mind. When
she tried to spread out the sheet again, she had a regular battle,
for she was quite lost in it, as it covered her with a great crackling
sound.

Through all the noise of the wind she heard a voice saying,
"Mademoiselle, do you wish me to help you?"

It was he, and immediately she cried to him, with no other thought than
her pre-occupation as a good housewife:

"Of course I wish it. Come and help me, then. Take the end over there,
nearest to you. Hold it firm!"

The sheet, which they stretched out with their strong arms, flapped
backwards and forwards like a sail. At last they succeeded in putting it
on the ground, and then placed upon it much heavier stones than before.
And now that, quite conquered, it sank quietly down, neither of them
thought of leaving their places, but remained on their knees at the
opposite corners, separated by this great piece of pure white linen.

She smiled, but this time without malice. It was a silent message of
thanks. He became by degrees a little bolder.

"My name is Felicien."

"And mine is Angelique."

"I am a painter on glass, and have been charged to repair the
stained-glass window of the chapel here."

"I live over there with my father and mother, and I am an embroiderer of
church vestments."

The win