but half-turned to Valmond, but he caught the pure
outlines of her face and neck, her extreme delicacy of expression,
which had a pathetic, subtle refinement, in acute contrast to the quick,
abundant health, the warm energy, the half defiant look of Elise. It was
a picture of labour and life.

A dozen thoughts ran through Valmond's mind. He was responsible, to an
extent, for the happiness of these two young creatures. He had promised
to make a songstress of the one, to send her to Paris; had roused in
her wild, ambitious hopes of fame and fortune--dreams that, in any case,
could be little like the real thing: fanciful visions of conquest and
golden living, where never the breath of her hawthorn and wild violets
entered; only sickly perfumes, as from an odalisque's fan, amid the
enervating splendour of voluptuous boudoirs--for she had read of these
things.

Valmond had, in a vague, graceless sort of way, worked upon the quick
emotions of Elise. Every little touch of courtesy had been returned to
him in half-shy, half-ardent glances; in flushes, which the kiss he
had given her the first day of their meeting had made the signs of
an intermittent fever; in modest yet alluring waylayings; in restless
nights, in half-tuneful, half-silent days; in a sweet sort of petulance.
She had kept in mind everything he had said to her; the playfully
emotional pressure of her hand, his eloquent talks with her uncle, the
old sergeant's rhapsodies on his greatness; and there was no place in
the room where he had sat or stood, which she had not made sacred--she,
the mad cap, who had lovers by the dozen. Importuned by the Cure and her
mother to marry, she had threatened, if they worried her further, to wed
fat Duclosse, the mealman, who had courted her in a ponderous way for
at least three years. The fire that corrodes, when it does not make
glorious without and within, was in her veins, and when Valmond should
call she was ready to come. She could not, at first, see that if he
were, in truth, a Napoleon, she was not for him. Seized of that wilful,
daring spirit called Love, her sight was bounded by the little field
where she strayed.

Elise's arm paused upon the lever of the bellows, when she saw Valmond
watching them from the door. He took off his hat to them, as Madelinette
turned towards him, the hammer pausing in the stroke.

"Ah, monseigneur!" she said impulsively, and then paused, confused.
Elise did not move, but stood looking at