Then,
while the luggage was being brought in, the whole journey was gone over
again before the drawing-room fire. The eager words flowed from
Jeanne's lips, and in half-an-hour she had related everything, except a
few little details she forgot in her haste. Then she went to unpack,
with Rosalie, who was in a state of great excitement, to help her; when
she had finished and everything had been put away in its proper place
Rosalie left her mistress, and Jeanne sat down, feeling a little tired.
She wondered what she could do next, and she tried to think of some
occupation for her mind, some task for her fingers. She did not want to
go down to the drawing-room again to sit by her mother who was dozing,
and she thought of going for a walk, but it was so miserable out of
doors that only to glance out of the window made her feel melancholy.

Then the thought flashed across her mind that now there never would be
anything for her to do. At the convent the future had always given her
something to think about, and her dreams had filled the hours, so that
their flight had passed unnoticed; but she had hardly left the convent
when her love-dreams had been realized. In a few weeks she had met,
loved, and married a man who had borne her away in his arms without
giving her time to think of anything. But now the sweet reality of the
first few weeks of married life was going to become a daily monotony,
barring the way to all the hopes and delicious fears of an unknown
future. There was nothing more to which she could look forward, nothing
more for her to do, to-day, to-morrow, or ever. She felt all that with a
vague sensation of disillusion and melancholy. She rose and went to lean
her forehead against the cold window-pane, and, after looking for some
time at the dull sky and heavy clouds, she made up her mind to go out.

Could it really be the same country, the same grass, the same trees as
she had seen with such joy in May? What had become of the sun-bathed
leaves, and the flaming dandelions, the blood-red poppies, the pure
marguerites that had reared their heads amidst the green grass above
which had fluttered innumerable yellow butterflies? They were all gone,
and the very air seemed changed, for now it was no longer full of life,
and fertilizing germs and intoxicating perfumes. The avenues were soaked
by the autumn rains and covered with a thick carpet of dead leaves, and
the thin branches of the poplars trembled in the wind which w