the
gloomy streets of the Marais for the first time since the previous
autumn, and entering the smiling and picturesque valley of Montmorency;
on seeing it in the morning light, its endless horizons receding from
view; and then lifting a charmed gaze to eyes which expressed no less
infinitude mingled with love?

The Stranger discovered that Caroline was sprightly rather than witty,
affectionate, but ill educated; but while her laugh was giddy, her words
promised genuine feeling. When, in response to her companion's shrewd
questioning, the girl spoke with the heartfelt effusiveness of which the
lower classes are lavish, not guarding it with reticence like people of
the world, the Black Gentleman's face brightened, and seemed to renew
its youth. His countenance by degrees lost the sadness that lent
sternness to his features, and little by little they gained a look of
handsome youthfulness which made Caroline proud and happy. The pretty
needlewoman guessed that her new friend had been long weaned from
tenderness and love, and no longer believed in the devotion of woman.
Finally, some unexpected sally in Caroline's light prattle lifted the
last veil that concealed the real youth and genuine character of the
Stranger's physiognomy; he seemed to bid farewell to the ideas that
haunted him, and showed the natural liveliness that lay beneath the
solemnity of his expression.

Their conversation had insensibly become so intimate, that by the time
when the carriage stopped at the first houses of the straggling village
of Saint-Leu, Caroline was calling the gentleman Monsieur Roger. Then
for the first time the old mother awoke.

"Caroline, she has heard everything!" said Roger suspiciously in the
girl's ear.

Caroline's reply was an exquisite smile of disbelief, which dissipated
the dark cloud that his fear of some plot on the old woman's part had
brought to this suspicious mortal's brow. Madame Crochard was amazed
at nothing, approved of everything, followed her daughter and Monsieur
Roger into the park, where the two young people had agreed to wander
through the smiling meadows and fragrant copses made famous by the taste
of Queen Hortense.

"Good heavens! how lovely!" exclaimed Caroline when standing on the
green ridge where the forest of Montmorency begins, she saw lying at her
feet the wide valley with its combes sheltering scattered villages, its
horizon of blue hills, its church towers, its meadows and fields, whence
a