under the shadow of its broad brim. When she went out thus on Pascal's
arm, she tall, slender, and youthful, he radiant, his face
illuminated, so to say, by the whiteness of his beard, with a vigor
that made him still lift her across the rivulets, people smiled as
they passed, and turned around to look at them again, they seemed so
innocent and so happy. On this day, as they left the road to Les
Fenouilleres to enter Plassans, a group of gossips stopped short in
their talk. It reminded one of one of those ancient kings one sees in
pictures; one of those powerful and gentle kings who never grew old,
resting his hand on the shoulder of a girl beautiful as the day, whose
docile and dazzling youth lends him its support.

They were turning into the Cours Sauvair to gain the Rue de la Banne,
when a tall, dark young man of about thirty stopped them.

"Ah, master, you have forgotten me. I am still waiting for your notes
on consumption."

It was Dr. Ramond, a young physician, who had settled two years before
at Plassans, where he was building up a fine practise. With a superb
head, in the brilliant prime of a gracious manhood, he was adored by
the women, but he had fortunately a great deal of good sense and a
great deal of prudence.

"Why, Ramond, good day! Not at all, my dear friend; I have not
forgotten you. It is this little girl, to whom I gave the notes
yesterday to copy, and who has not touched them yet."

The two young people shook hands with an air of cordial intimacy.