king any notice--which
he considered a very favourable omen. He did not know how to begin a
conversation; and besides, he began to get confused; and his blushing
increased to a most alarming extent--and--in short--he held out his
crook to Daphne. As that young shepherdess had no crook of her own,
and did not know how to refuse the one he offered, she took it,
though her hand trenbled a little, and looked at Madame Deshoulieres.

"I broke your crook yesterday, fair Daphne," said Hector, "but it is
not lost. I shall make a relic of it--more precious than--than--",
but the bones of the particular saint he was about to name stuck in
his throat and he was silent.

"Monsieur de Langevy," said Madam d'Urtis kindly, "since you make
such a point of aiding these shepherdesses in guarding the flock, I
hope in an hour you will accompany them to the castle to lunch."

"I'll go with them wherever you allow me, madam," said Hector.
(I wonder if the impudent fellow thought he had the permission of
the young ones already.)

"Let that be settled then," said the Duchess. "I shall go and have
the butter cooled, and the curds made--a simple lunch, as befits the
guests."

"The fare of shepherds!" said Madame Deshoulieres, and immediately
set out in search of a rhyme.

Daphne had walked slowly on, pressing the crook involuntarily to her
heart, and arrived at the river side, impelled by a desire for
solitude, without knowing why. There are some mysterious influences
to which damsels of seventeen seem particularly subject. A lamb--the
gentlest of the flock, which had become accustomed to her
caresses--had followed her like a dog. She passed her small hand
lightly over the snowy neck of the favourite, and looked round to
see what the party she had left were doing. She was astonished to
see her mother and Hector conversing, as if they had been acquainted
for ages, while Madame d'Urtis and Amaranthe were running a race
towards the park. She sat down on the grassy bank, exactly opposite
the oziers where she had seen Hector the preceding day. When she
felt she was quite alone, she ventured to look at the crook. It was
a branch of ash of good size, ornamented with a rustic bouquet and a
bunch of ribands, not very skilfully tied. Daphne was just going to
improve the knot, when she saw a billet hid in the flowers. What
should she do?--read it? That were dangerous; her confessor did not
allow such venialities--her mamma would be enraged--some pe