Mathieu slowly seated Marianne on the low broad parapet once more. He
kept her near his heart; it was a halt full of affection, which neither
could forego, in presence of the universal peace that came to them from
the stars, and the waters, and the woods, and the endless fields.

"What a splendid night!" murmured Mathieu. "How beautiful and how
pleasant to live in it!"

Then, after a moment's rapture, during which they both heard their hearts
beating, he began to tell her of his day. She questioned him with loving
interest, and he answered, happy at having to tell her no lie.

"No, the Beauchenes cannot come here on Sunday. Constance never cared
much for us, as you well know. Their boy Maurice is suffering in the
legs; Dr. Boutan was there, and the question of children was discussed
again. I will tell you all about that. On the other hand, the Moranges
have promised to come. You can't have an idea of the delight and vanity
they displayed in showing me their new flat. What with their eagerness to
make a big fortune I'm much afraid that those worthy folks will do
something very foolish. Oh! I was forgetting. I called on the landlord,
and though I had a good deal of difficulty over it, he ended by
consenting to have the roof entirely relaid. Ah! what a home, too, those
Seguins have! I came away feeling quite scared. But I will tell you all
about it by and by with the rest."

Marianne evinced no loquacious curiosity; she quietly awaited his
confidences, and showed anxiety only respecting themselves and the
children.