nger--
"let that history be for ever a secret. I do not wish people to
laugh at the weakness of my heart. Farewell, sir, let every thing be
forgotten--buried!"

Large tears rolled down the poor girl's cheek.

"No, Daphne, no!--I never will leave you. I declare it before heaven
and earth, I will conduct my cousin to the Chateau, and in an hour I
will be with you to dry your tears, and to ask pardon of you on my
knees. Moreover, I am not to blame, I call my cousin to witness. Is
it not true, Clotilde, that I don't love you?"

"'Pon my word, cousin, you have certainly _told_ me you loved me;
but as men generally say the contrary of what is the fact, I am
willing to believe you don't. But I beg you'll not incommode
yourself on my account; I can find my way to the Chateau perfectly
well alone."

She walked away, hiding her chagrin under the most easy and careless
air in the world.

"I must run after her," said Hector, "or she will tell every thing
to my father. Adieu Daphne; in two hours I shall be at the Cottage
of the Vines, and more in love than ever."

"Adieu, then," murmured Daphne in a dying voice; "adieu," she
repeated on seeing him retire; "adieu!--as for me, in two hours, I
shall _not_ be at the Cottage of Vines."

CHAPTER VI

She returned to the cottage of old Babet. On seeing the little
chamber she had taken so much pains to ornament with flowers and
blossoms, she sank her head upon her bosom. "Poor roses!" she
murmured--"little I thought when I gathered you, that my heart would
be the first to wither!"

The poor old woman came in to her. "What! crying?" she said--
"do people weep at eighteen?"

Daphne threw herself into Babet's arms, and sobbed.

"He has deceived me--left me for his cousin. I must go. You will
tell him that he has behaved cruelly, that I am----but no!--tell him
that I forgive him."

Daphne loved Hector with all her heart, and with all her soul. There
never was an affection so blind, or a girl so innocent. Before
leaving Paris, she had had various visions of what might happen in
the country--how she might meet some graceful cavalier beside the
wall of some romantic castle, who would fling himself on his knees
before her, like a hero of romance. And this dream, so cherished in
Paris, was nearly realized on the banks of the Lignon. Hector was
exactly the sort of youth she had fancied, and the interest became
greater from their enacting the parts of shepherdess and shepherd.