ssing of heaven."

Babet spread a tablecloth like snow, and laid some dishes of fruit
upon the table. Hector took a tender farewell of Daphne, and kissed
her hand at least a dozen times. At last he tore himself away, with
a promise that he would be with her at daybreak next morning.

CHAPTER V.

Daphne hardly slept all night in her chamber. She was disturbed by
many thoughts, and became alarmed at the step she had taken. At
earliest dawn she threw open her window. The first sun-rays,
reflected on a thousand dewdrops on the trees; the chirping of the
birds, which already began their matin song; the joyous voice of the
cock, which crowed in a most satisfactory and majestic manner in the
paddock of her hostess; all these sights and sounds, to which she
was so little accustomed, restored her serenity of mind once more.
She dwelt more on the attractions of her love--so adventurous, so
romantic. Love's ways, like those of wickedness, are strewed at
first with roses, and Daphne was only at the entrance of the path.

While she was repelling from her heart the miserable fancies that had
crowded on her at night, she all of a sudden perceived Hector by the
whitethorn hedge.

"Welcome! welcome!" she cried, "you come to me with the sun."

"How lovely you are this morning!" said Hector to her, with a look
of admiration which there needed no physiognomist to discover was
profoundly real. She looked at herself when he spoke, and perceived
she was but half dressed. She threw herself on the foot of her bed.

"What am I to do?" she thought, "I can't always wear a silk petticoat
and a corset of white satin?"

She dressed herself notwithstanding, as last night, trusting to fate
for the morrow. Hector had brought her writing materials, and she
composed a tender adieu to her mamma.

"Admirably done!" cried Hector; "I have a peasant here who will carry
it to Madame Deshoulieres--as for me, I shall go as usual to the
Park d'Urtis at noon. When they see me they will have no suspicion.
Your mamma goes away this evening, so that after to-day we shall
have nothing to fear."

The lovers breakfasted in the spirits which only youth and love can
furnish. Daphne had herself gone to the fountain with the broken
pitcher of the cottage. "You perceive, Hector," she said, on seating
herself at the table, "that I have all the qualifications of a
peasant girl."

"And all the gracefulness of a duchess," added the youth.

At one o'clock