Julien remained mute, overpowered with shame and remorse. Suddenly, in
the stillness around, rose the voices of the dancers returning and
singing the refrain of the rondelay:

I had a rose--
On my heart it lay
Will those who are young
Be married, or nay?
Yea, yea!

"There are our people," said Reine, softly, "I am going to them; adieu--
do not follow me!" She left the but and hastened toward the furnace,
while Julien, stunned with the rapidity with which this unfortunate scene
had been enacted, sat down on one of the benches, a prey to confused
feelings of shame and angry mortification. No, certainly, he did not
intend to follow her! He had no desire to show himself in public with
this young girl whom he had so stupidly insulted, and in whose face he
never should be able to look again. Decidedly, he did not understand
women, since he could not even tell a virtuous girl from a frivolous
coquette! Why had he not been able to see that the good-natured, simple
familiarity of Reine Vincart had nothing in common with the enticing
allurements of those who, to use Claudet's words, had "thrown their caps
over the wall." How was it that he had not read, in those eyes, pure as
the fountain's source, the candor and uprightness of a maiden heart which
had nothing to conceal. This cruel evidence of his inability to conduct
himself properly in the affairs of life exasperated and humiliated him,
and at the same time that he felt his self-love most deeply wounded,
he was conscious of being more hopelessly enamored of Reine Vincart.
Never had she appeared so beautiful as during the indignant movement