which had separated her from him. Her look of mingled anger and sadness,
the expression of her firm, set lips, the quivering nostrils, the heaving
of her bosom, he recalled it all, and the image of her proud beauty
redoubled his grief and despair.

He remained a long time concealed in the shadow of the hut. Finally,
when he heard the voices dying away in different directions, and was
satisfied that the charcoal-men were attending to their furnace work,
he made up his mind to come out. But, as he did not wish to meet any
one, instead of crossing through the cutting he plunged into the wood,
taking no heed in what direction he went, and being desirous of walking
alone as long as possible, without meeting a single human visage.

As he wandered aimlessly through the deepening shadows of the forest,
crossed here and there by golden bars of light from the slanting rays of
the setting sun, he pondered over the probable results of his unfortunate
behavior. Reine would certainly keep silence on the affront she had
received, but would she be indulgent enough to forget or forgive the
insult? The most evident result of the affair would be that henceforth
all friendly relations between them must cease. She certainly would
maintain a severe attitude toward the person who had so grossly insulted
her, but would she be altogether pitiless in her anger? All through his
dismal feelings of self-reproach, a faint hope of reconciliation kept him
from utter despair. As he reviewed the details of the shameful
occurrence, he remembered that the expression of her countenance had been
one more of sorrow than of anger. The tone of melancholy reproach in
which she had uttered the words: "I did not expect this from you,
Monsieur de Buxieres!" seemed to convey the hope that he might, one day,
be forgiven. At the same time, the poignancy of his regret showed him
how much hold the young girl had taken upon his affections, and how