red, and oh, so hot and thirsty. I put my hand in my pocket
and drew out the apple, which I had forgotten. How refreshing it was!

"'Poor bon papa,' I said to myself. 'I wish he would not be so exacting.
I do not wish to make him unhappy, but what can I do? One cannot be all
one's life a little child.'

"Still, softer thoughts were coming into my mind, I began to wish I had
not given my decision, that I had said I would think it over. Paris was
so far away; at home they might all be dead before I could hear, the poor
bon papa above all; it was true he was getting very old.

"Just then, at a turn in the road, I found myself in face of Didier,
Didier Larreya. He was walking fast, his face looked stern and troubled.
He stopped suddenly on seeing me; it was not often of late that we had
spoken to each other. He had not looked with favour on my new friends,
who on their side had made fun of him (though I had noticed the day of
the wedding that Odette had been very ready to dance with him whenever he
had asked her), and I had said to my silly self that he was jealous. So
just now I would have passed him, but he stopped me.

"'It is going to thunder, Marie,' he said. 'We shall have a terrible
storm. I came to meet thee, to tell thee to shelter at our house; I told
thy mother I would do so. I have just been to thy house.'

"I felt angry for no reason. I did not like his watching me, and going to
the house to be told of all my doings. I resented his saying 'thou' to
me.

"'I thank you, Monsieur Didier,' I said stiffly. 'I can take care of
myself. I have no wish to rest at your house. I prefer to go home,' and I
turned to walk on.

"Didier looked at me, and the look in his eyes was very sad.

"'Then it is true,' he said.

"'What is true?'

"'That you are so changed'--he did not say 'thou'--'that you wish to go
away and leave us all. The poor bon papa is right.'

"'What has bon papa been saying?' I cried, more and more angry, 'What is
it to you what I do? Attend to your own affairs, I beg you, Monsieur
Didier Larreya, and leave me mine.'

"Didier stopped, and before I knew what he was doing, took both my hands
in his.

"'Listen, Marie,' he said. 'You _must_. You are scarcely more than a
child, and I was glad for you to be so. It would not be me that would
wish to see you all wise, all settled down like an old woman at your age.
But you force me to say what I had not wished to say yet for a long time.
I am older tha