"Do come in, my darling."

When she had entered the garden she said:

"Be sure to close the gate properly, Robert."

Before them stretched a small oval grass-plot.

Behind it stood the house, with its flight of three steps, sheltered by
a zinc portico, its six windows, and its slate roof.

Ligny had rented it for a year from an old merchant's clerk, who had
wearied of it because nocturnal prowlers used to steal his fowls and
rabbits. On either side of the grass-plot a gravel path led to the
steps. They took the path on the right. The gravel creaked beneath their
feet.

"Madame Simonneau has forgotten to close the shutters again," said
Ligny.

Madame Simonneau was a woman from Neuilly, who came every morning to
clean up.

A large Judas-tree, leaning to one side, and to all appearance dead,
stretched one of its round black branches as far as the portico.

"I don't quite like that tree," said Félicie; "its branches are like
great snakes. One of them goes almost into our room."