and with scarlet berries which suggested maize plants decked out with crimson ribbon.  Then there came a jungle of nettle-trees, medlars and jujube trees, which pomegranates skirted with never-fading verdure.  The fruit of the latter, big as a child’s fist, was scarcely set as yet; and the purple blossoms, fluttering at the ends of the branches, looked like the palpitating wings of the humming birds, which do not even bend the shoots on which they perch.  Lastly, there was a forest of orange and lemon trees growing vigorously in the open air.  Their straight trunks stood like rows of brown columns, while their shiny leaves showed brightly against the blue of the sky, and cast upon the ground a network of light and shadow, figuring the palms of some Indian fabric.  Here there was shade beside which that of the European orchard seemed colourless, insipid; the warm joy of sunlight, softened into flying gold-dust; the glad certainty of evergreen foliage; the penetrating perfume of blossom, and the more subdued fragrance of fruit; all helping to fill the body with the soft languor of tropical lands.

‘And now let us breakfast,’ cried Albine, clapping her hands.  ’It must be at least nine o’clock, and I am very hungry.’

She had risen from the ground.  Serge confessed that he, too, would find some food acceptable.

‘You goose!’ she said, ’you didn’t understand, then, that I brought you here to breakfast.  We sha’n’t die of hunger here.  We can help ourselves to all there is.’

They went along under the trees, pushing aside the branches and making their way to the thickest of the fruit.  Albine, who went first, turned, and in her flute-like voice asked her companion:  ’What do you like best?  Pears, apricots, cherries, or currants?  I warn you that the pears are still green; but they are very nice all the same.’

Serge decided upon having cherries, and Albine agreed it would be as well to start with them; but when she saw him foolishly beginning to scramble up the first cherry tree he found, she made him go on for another ten minutes through a frightful entanglement of branches.  The cherries on this tree, she said, were small and good for nothing; those on that were sour; those on another would not be ripe for at least a week.  She knew all the trees.

‘Stop, climb this one,’ she said at last, as she stopped at the foot of a tree, so heavily laden with fruit that clusters of it hung down to the ground, like strings of coral beads.

Serge settled himself comfortably between two branches and began his breakfast.  He no longer paid attention to Albine.  He imagined she was in another tree, a few yards away, when, happening to cast his eyes towards the ground, he saw her calmly lying on her back beneath him.  She had thrown herself there, and, without troubling herself to use her hands, was plucking with her teeth the cherries which dangled over her mouth.

When she saw she was discovered, she broke out into a peal of laughter, and twisted about on the grass like a fish taken from the water.  And finally, crawling along on her elbows, she gradually made the circuit of the tree, snapping up the plumpest cherries as she went along.