feel happy amid it all. We who were brought up in the country never
lose our appreciation of its peaceful charm. It bows down our lives as
we bow our forehead in our hands to think beyond our immediate
surroundings; and from its narrow circle we are better able to judge the
expanse which has become necessary to us.

4

The night rises, things fade away. The sky is a deep blue in the frame
of the open window. Rose brings the lamp:

"It was the first companion of my solitude," she says, reminiscently;
then, laughing, "the companion of my boredom, the companion of those
long, long evenings...."

"But now, dearest?..."

"Ah, now, the days are too short: I have a thousand duties to perform,
my dear little old woman to look after, my customers, my flowers, my
animals; then, in the evening, we often have a caller: the priest, the
notary, the neighbours...."

Then, suddenly fearing that she has hurt me, she adds, in a caressing
tone:

"When I am with them, I am always talking about you, so as to comfort
myself for the loss of you; for that is my only sorrow."

5

An hour or two later, sitting in the garden, we watched the stars
appearing one by one. Our arms were round each other; our fair tresses
were intermingled. We were at the far end of the town. We heard the
sounds of the country ringing in the transparent air; and the crystal
voice of the frogs, that small, clear note falling steadily and marking
time to our thoughts. We were quiet, like everything around us,
unstirred by a breath of wind.

Rose spoke of her happiness; and I never wearied of inhaling that
delicious tranquillity. I had been thinking of settling her future for
her. And what an inestimable lesson I was learning from her! Rose was
one of those whose road must be marked from hour to hour by a little
duty of some kind or another. It is thus, by limiting themselves, that
these characters arrive at knowing and asserting themselves. She said,
blithely, "my room," "my garden," "my house;" and I smiled as I
reflected that I had once struggled to rid that mind of all useless
bonds.

6

What a mistake I had made! In order to find her life, she had had to
earn it and to recognise it in the very things that now belonged to it,
to mark every hour of it with humdrum tasks, to create for herself
little troubles on her own level, difficulties which her good sense
could easily overcome. There was nothing unexpected, nothing
far-reaching in her life,