Hector had found his way to the meadow. Nobody was
there. He opened the gate of the park, and before he had gone far was
met by Madame Deshoulieres.

"My daughter!" she cried in an agitated voice; "You have not seen my
daughter?"

"I was in hopes of seeing her here," replied Hector, with a start of
well-acted surprise.

"She is gone off," resumed the mother; "gone off, like a silly
creature, to some convent, disguised as a shepherdess--the foolish,
senseless girl!--and I am obliged to depart this very day, so that
it is impossible to follow her."

Hector continued to enact astonishment--he even offered his services
to reclaim the fugitive--and, in short, exhibited such sorrow and
disappointment, that the habitual quickness of Madame Deshoulieres
was deceived. The Duchess, Amaranthe, and the mamma all thanked him
for his sympathy; and he at last took his leave, with no doubt in
his mind, that he was a consummate actor, and qualified for any plot
whatever.

He went back to Daphne, who had sunk into despondency once more, and
consoled her by painting a brilliant picture of their future
happiness. But on the following day he came later than before--he
seemed dull and listless--and embraced his shepherdess with evident
constraint. Things like these never escape the observations of
shepherdesses, gentle or simple.

"Do you know, Hector, that you are not by any means too gallant?--A
shepherd of proper sentiments would waken his sweetheart every
morning with the sound of his pipe. He would gather flowers for her
before the dew was gone, and fill her basket with fruits. He would
carve her initials on the bark of the tree beneath the window, as
her name is written on his heart. But you! you come at nearly
noon--and leave me to attend to myself. 'Twas I, you inattentive
Daphnis, who gathered all these fruits and flowers. Don't you see
how the room is improved? Hyacinths in the window, roses on the
mantelpiece, and violets every where--ah! what a time you were in
coming!"

They went out into the garden, where the good old Babet was at
breakfast, with her cat and the bees.

"Come hither," continued Daphne, "look at this little corner so
beautifully worked--'tis my own garden--I have raked and weeded it
all. There is not much planted in it yet, but what a charming place
it is for vines!--and the hedge, how sweet and flourishing! But what
is the matter with you, Hector? You seem absent--sad."

"Oh! nothing, Daphne, noth