‘They tickle me so,’ she cried.  ’See, there’s a beauty just fallen on my neck.  They are so deliciously fresh and juicy.  They get into my ears, my eyes, my nose, everywhere.  They are much sweeter down here than up there.’

‘Ah!’ said Serge, laughing, ‘you say that because you daren’t climb up.’

She remained for a moment silent with indignation.  ‘Daren’t!—­I!—­’ she stammered.

Then, having gathered up her skirts, she tightly grasped the tree and pulled herself up the trunk with a single effort of her strong wrists.  And afterwards she stepped lightly along the branches, scarcely using her hands to steady herself.  She had all the agile nimbleness of a squirrel, and made her way onward, maintaining her equilibrium only by the swaying poise of her body.  When she was quite aloft at the end of a frail branch, which shook dangerously beneath her weight, she cried; ‘Now you see whether I daren’t climb.’

‘Come down at once,’ implored Serge, full of alarm for her.  ’I beg of you to come down.  You will be injuring yourself.’

But she, enjoying her triumph, began to mount still higher.  She crawled along to the extreme end of a branch, grasping its leaves in her hands to maintain her hold.

‘The branch will break!’ cried Serge, thoroughly frightened.

‘Let it break,’ she answered, with a laugh; ’it will save me the trouble of getting down.’

And the branch did break, but only slowly, with such deliberation that, as it gradually settled towards the ground, it let Albine slip down in very gentle fashion.  She did not appear in the least degree frightened; but gave herself a shake, and said:  ’That was really nice.  It was quite like being in a carriage.’

Serge had jumped down from the tree to catch her in his arms.  As he stood there, quite pale from fright, she laughed at him.  ’One tumbles down from trees every day,’ she exclaimed, ’but there is never any harm done.  Look more cheerful, you great stupid!  Stay, just wet your finger and rub it upon my neck.  I have scratched it.’

Serge wetted his finger and touched her neck with it.

‘There, I am all right again now,’ she cried, as she bounded off.  ’Let us play at hide and seek, shall we?’

She was the first to hide.  She disappeared, and presently from the depths of the greenery, which she alone knew, and where Serge could not possibly find her, she called, ‘Cuckoo, cuckoo.’  But this game of hide and seek did not put a stop to the onslaught upon the fruit trees.  Breakfasting went on in all the nooks and corners where the two big children sought each other.  Albine, while gliding beneath the branches, would stretch out her hand to pluck a green pear or fill her skirt with apricots.  Then in some of her lurking-places she would come upon such rich discoveries as would make her careless of the game, content to sit upon the ground and remain eating.  Once, however, she lost