me of age, to marry me?"

He perceived through the darkness the gentle black light of Gracieuse's
eyes, which rose toward him with an expression of astonishment and of
reproach.

"Then--you did not know?"

"I wanted to make you say it, you see--You had never said it to me, do
you know?--"

He held tighter the arm of his little betrothed and their walk became
slower. It is true that they had never said it, not only because it
seemed to them that it was not necessary to say, but especially because
they were stopped at the moment of speaking by a sort of terror--the
terror of being mistaken about each other's sentiment--and now they
knew, they were sure. Then they had the consciousness of having passed
together the grave and solemn threshold of life. And, leaning on one
another, they faltered, almost, in their slackened promenade, like two
children intoxicated by youthfulness, joy and hope.

"But do you think your mother will consent?" said Ramuntcho timidly,
after the long, delightful silence--

"Ah, that is the trouble," replied the little girl with a sigh of
anxiety--"Arrochkoa, my brother, will be for us, it is probable. But
mother?--Will mother consent?--But, it will not happen soon, in any
case--You have to serve in the army."

"No, if you do not want me to! No, I need not serve! I am a Guipuzcoan,
like my mother; I shall be enrolled only if I wish to be--Whatever you
say, I'll do--"

"My Ramuntcho, I would like better to wait for you longer and that you
become naturalized, and that you become a soldier like the others. I
tell you this, since you ask--"

"Truly, is it what you wish? Well, so much the better. Oh, to be a
Frenchman or a Spaniard is indifferent to me. I shall do as you wish. I
like as well one as the other: I am a Basque like you, like all of us;
I care not for the rest! But as for being a soldier somewhere, on this
side of the frontier or on the other, yes, I prefer it. In the first
place, one who goes away looks as if he were running away; and then, it
would please me to be a soldier, frankly."

"Well, my Ramuntcho, since it is all the same to you, serve as a soldier
in France, to please me."

"It is understood, Gatchutcha!--You will see me wearing red trousers.
I shall call on you in the dress of a soldier, like Bidegarray, like
Joachim. As soon as I have served my three years, we will marry, if your
mother consents!"

After a moment of silence Gracieuse said, in a low, solemn voice: