painful struggle was going on within him. The splendors of the setting
sun had merged into the dusky twilight, and the last piping notes of the
birds sounded faintly among the sombre trees. A fresh breeze had sprung
up, and filled the darkening room with the odor of honeysuckle.

Under the soothing influence of the falling night, Julien slowly raised
his head, and addressing Claudet in a low and measured voice like a
father confessor interrogating a penitent, said:

"Does Reine know that you love her?"

"I think she must suspect it," replied Claudet, "although I never have
ventured to declare myself squarely. But girls are very quick, Reine
especially. They soon begin to suspect there is some love at bottom,
when a young man begins to hang around them too frequently."

"You see her often, then?"

"Not as often as I should like. But, you know, when one lives in the
same district, one has opportunities of meeting--at the beech harvest,
in the woods, at the church door. And when you meet, you talk but
little, making the most of your time. Still, you must not suppose,
as I think you did, that we have rendezvous in the evening. Reine
respects herself too much to go about at night with a young man as
escort, and besides, she has other fish to fry. She has a great deal to
do at the farm, since her father has become an invalid."

"Well, do you think she loves you?" said Julien, with a movement of
nervous irritation.