and yet more joy.

He went for a little trip to Henriette's home in the country. It
was a simple village, and they took walks in the country, and
stopped to refresh themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of
M. Loches' tenants. Here was a rosy and buxom peasant woman,
with a nursing child in her arms. She was destined a couple of
years later to be the foster-mother of Henriette's little girl
and to play an important part in her life. But the pair had no
idea of that at present. They simply saw a proud and happy
mother, and Henriette played with the baby, giving vent to
childish delight. Then suddenly she looked up and saw that
George was watching her, and as she read his thoughts a beautiful
blush suffused her cheeks.

As for George, he turned away and went out under the blue sky in
a kind of ecstasy. Life seemed very wonderful to him just then;
he had found its supreme happiness, which was love. He was
really getting quite mad about Henriette, he told himself. He
could hardly believe that the day was coming when he would be
able to clasp her in his arms.

But in the blue sky of George's happiness there was one little
cloud of storm. As often happens with storm-clouds, it was so
small that at first he paid no attention to it at all.

He noted upon his body one day a tiny ulcer. At first he treated
it with salve purchased from an apothecary. Then after a week or
two, when this had no effect, he began to feel uncomfortable. He
remembered suddenly he had heard about the symptoms of an