rny; then, returning to fetch them, he led the way through the
alleys cut in the forest.

The dinner was cheerful. Roger was no longer the melancholy shade that
was wont to pass along the Rue du Tourniquet; he was not the "Black
Gentleman," but rather a confiding young man ready to take life as it
came, like the two hard-working women who, on the morrow, might lack
bread; he seemed alive to all the joys of youth, his smile was quite
affectionate and childlike.

When, at five o'clock, this happy meal was ended with a few glasses
of champagne, Roger was the first to propose that they should join the
village ball under the chestnuts, where he and Caroline danced together.
Their hands met with sympathetic pressure, their hearts beat with the
same hopes; and under the blue sky and the slanting, rosy beams of
sunset, their eyes sparkled with fires which, to them, made the glory of
the heavens pale. How strange is the power of an idea, of a desire!
To these two nothing seemed impossible. In such magic moments, when
enjoyment sheds its reflections on the future, the soul foresees nothing
but happiness. This sweet day had created memories for these two to
which nothing could be compared in all their past existence. Would
the source prove to be more beautiful than the river, the desire more
enchanting than its gratification, the thing hoped for more delightful
than the thing possessed?

"So the day is already at an end!" On hearing this exclamation from
her unknown friend when the dance was over, Caroline looked at him
compassionately, as his face assumed once more a faint shade of sadness.

"Why should you not be as happy in Paris as you are here?" she asked.
"Is happiness to be found only at Saint-Leu? It seems to me that I can
henceforth never be unhappy anywhere."

Roger was struck by these words, spoken with the glad unrestraint that
always carries a woman further than she intended, just as prudery often
lends her greater cruelty than she feels. For the first time since that
glance, which had, in a way, been the beginning of their friendship,
Caroline and Roger had the same idea; though they did not express it,
they felt it at the same instant, as a result of a common impression
like that of a comforting fire cheering both under the frost of winter;
then, as if frightened by each other's silence, they made their way to
the spot where the carriage was waiting. But before getting into it,
they playfully took hands and ran