brown. She gathered here and there a pretty sprig, sometimes
placing them in her hair, sometimes in her little black silk apron,
coquettishly decorated with cherry-colored ribbons. She stopped before
a luxuriant wild myrtle, pulling at the branches, while she sang,

"When the little hollow drum beats to bed,
When the little fifer hangs his head,
When is mute the Moorish flute--"

Her song was suddenly interrupted by a clasp round the waist, and a
warm kiss on the lips.

"O Gerald, you've come back!" she exclaimed. "How glad Rosa will be!"

"And nobody else will be glad, I suppose?" rejoined he. "Won't you
give me back my kiss, when I've been gone a whole week?"

"Certainly, _mon bon frère_," she replied; and as he inclined his face
toward her, she imprinted a slight kiss on his cheek.

"That's not giving me back _my_ kiss," said he. "I kissed your mouth,
and you must kiss mine."

"I will if you wish it," she replied, suiting the action to the
word. "But you needn't hold me so tight," she added, as she tried
to extricate herself. Finding he did not release her, she looked up
wonderingly in his face, then lowered her eyes, blushing crimson. No
one had ever looked at her so before.

"Come, don't be coy, _ma petite_," said he.