ough an alley in the low wood, with her
eyes on the ground, and her whole carriage full of a sweet pensiveness
which it did me good to see. I turned my back on the stream before she
saw me, and made a pretence of being taken up with something in another
direction. Doubtless she espied me soon, and before she came very
near; but she made no sign until she reached the brink, and found the
stepping-stones were gone.

Then, whether she suspected me or not, she called out to me, not once,
but several times. For, partly to tantalise her, as lovers will, and
partly because it charmed me to hear her use my name, I would not turn
at once.

When I did, and discovered her standing with one small foot dallying
with the water, I cried out with well-affected concern; and in a great
hurry ran towards her, paying no attention to her chiding or the pettish
haughtiness with which she spoke to me.

'The stepping-stones are all on your side,' she said imperiously.

'Who has moved them?'

I looked about without answering, and at last pretended to find them;
while she stood watching me, tapping the ground with one foot the while.
Despite her impatience, the stone which was nearest to her I took care
to bring last--that she might not cross without my assistance. But after
all she stepped over so lightly and quickly that the hand she placed
in mine seemed scarcely to rest there a second. Yet when she was over
I managed to retain it; nor did she resist, though her cheek, which had
been red before, turned crimson and her eyes fell, and bound to me by
the link of her little hand, she stood beside me with her whole figure
drooping.

'Mademoiselle,' I said gravely, summoning all my resolution to my aid,
'do you know of what that stream with its stepping-stones reminds me?'

She shook her head but did not answer.

'Of the stream which has flowed between us from the day when I first saw
you at St. Jean,' said in a low voice. 'It has flowed between us, and it
still does--separating us.'

'What stream?' she murmured, with her eyes cast down, and her foot
playing with the moss. 'You speak in riddles, sir.'

'You understand this one only too well, mademoiselle, 'I answered. 'Are
you not young and gay and beautiful, while I am old, or almost old,
and dull and grave? You are rich and well-thought-of at Court, and I a
soldier of fortune, not too successful. What did you think of me
when you first saw me at St. Jean? What when I came to Rosny? Th