at him with so little confusion and a great longing which she dared not
express. After a while, however, she summoned up her courage and said:
"Will you kiss me, Pierre? It would please me so much."

He shuddered, his heart crushed by this last torture. Ah! the kisses of
other days--those kisses which had ever lingered on his lips! Never since
had he kissed her, and to-day she was like a sister flinging her arms
around his neck. She kissed him with a loud smack on both his cheeks, and
offering her own, insisted on his doing likewise to her. So twice, in his
turn, he embraced her.

"I, too, Marie," said he, "am pleased, very pleased, I assure you." And
then, overcome by emotion, his courage exhausted, whilst at the same time
filled with delight and bitterness, he burst into sobs, weeping with his
face buried in his hands, like a child seeking to hide its tears.

"Come, come, we must not give way," said Sister Hyacinthe, gaily.
"Monsieur l'Abbe would feel too proud if he fancied that we had merely
come on his account. M. de Guersaint is about, isn't he?"

Marie raised a cry of deep affection. "Ah! my dear father! After all,
it's he who'll be most pleased!"

Thereupon Pierre had to relate that M. de Guersaint had not returned from
his excursion to Gavarnie. His increasing anxiety showed itself while he
spoke, although he sought to explain his friend's absence, surmising all
sorts of obstacles and unforeseen complications. Marie, however, did not
seem afraid, but again laughed, saying that her father never could be
punctual. Still she was extremely eager for him to see her walking, to
find her on her legs again, resuscitated, in the fresh blossoming of her