indeed, I could not take them, because Antoine would not let me if he
were alive; and if I gave you a flower every day all the year round I
should not pay you the worth of them, it would be quite impossible; and
why should you tell me falsehoods about such a thing? A falsehood is
never a thing for a man."

She shut the box and pushed it towards him, and turned to the selling of
her bouquets. Her voice shook a little as she tied up a bunch of
mignonette and told the price of it.

Those beautiful stockings! why had she ever seen them, and why had he
told her a lie?

It made her heart heavy. For the first time in her brief life the
Broodhuis seemed to frown between her and the sun.

Undisturbed, he painted on and did not look at her.

The day was nearly done. The people began to scatter. The shadows grew
very long. He painted, not glancing once elsewhere than at his study.
Bébée's baskets were quite empty.

She rose, and lingered, and regarded him wistfully: he was angered;
perhaps she had been rude? Her little heart failed her.

If he would only look up!

But he did not look up; he kept his handsome dark face studiously over
the canvas of the Broodhuis. She would have seen a smile in his eyes if
he had lifted them; but he never raised his lids.