are so rare in Paris that one is happy in having half a dozen of one's
own."

"No, no, you have a very pleasant place," murmured Helene.

The sun filled the pale atmosphere that day with a golden dust, its
rays streaming slowly through the leafless branches of the trees.
These assumed a ruddier tint, and you could see the delicate purple
gems softening the cold grey of the bark. On the lawn and along the
walks the grass and gravel glittered amidst the haze that seemed to
ooze from the ground. No flower was in blossom; only the happy flush
which the sunshine cast upon the soil revealed the approach of spring.

"At this time of year it is rather dull," resumed Madame Deberle. "In
June it is as cozy as a nest; the trees prevent any one from looking
in, and we enjoy perfect privacy." At this point she paused to call:
"Lucien, you must come away from that watertap!"

The lad, who was doing the honors of the garden, had led Jeanne
towards a tap under the steps. Here he had turned on the water, which
he allowed to splash on the tips of his boots. It was a game that he
delighted in. Jeanne, with grave face, looked on while he wetted his
feet.

"Wait a moment!" said Pauline, rising. "I'll go and stop his
nonsense!"

But Juliette held her back.

"You'll do no such thing; you are even more of a madcap than he is.