to die, for he could not have borne to think of him where _they_ have
sent him!"

Roger put his finger to his lips, and the good woman went on very
gravely, with a shake of her head:

"All right, mouth shut and tongue still! But," added she, unhooking a
bit of her bodice, and showing a ribbon and cross tied round her neck
by a piece of black ribbon, "they shall never hinder me from wearing
what _he_ gave to my poor Crochard, and I will have it buried with
me."

On hearing this speech, which at that time was regarded as seditious,
Roger interrupted the old lady by rising suddenly, and they returned
to the village through the park walks. The young man left them for a
few minutes while he went to order a meal at the best eating-house in
Taverny; then, returning to fetch them, he led the way through the
alleys cut in the forest.

The dinner was cheerful. Roger was no longer the melancholy shade that
was wont to pass along the Rue du Tourniquet; he was not the "Black
Gentleman," but rather a confiding young man ready to take life as it
came, like the two hard-working women who, on the morrow, might lack
bread; he seemed alive to all the joys of youth, his smile was quite
affectionate and childlike.

When, at five o'clock, this happy meal was ended with a few glasses of
champagne, Roger was the first to propose that they should join the
village ball under the chestnuts, where he and Caroline danced
together. Their hands met with sympathetic pressure, their hearts beat