When Serge had finished laying the table, the bottle of wine in the centre, and three crusts grouped round it, he hazarded the observation that the fare seemed to be scanty.  But Albine shrugged her shoulders with feminine superiority.  And wading into the water, she said in a severe tone, ‘I will catch the fish; you can watch me.’

For half an hour she strenuously exerted herself in trying to catch some of the little fishes with her hands.  She had gathered up her petticoats and fastened them together with a piece of string.  And she advanced quietly into the water, taking the greatest care not to disturb it.  When she was quite close to some tiny fish, that lay lurking between a couple of pebbles, she thrust down her bare arm, made a wild grasp, and brought her hand up again with nothing in it but sand and gravel.  Serge then broke out into noisy laughter which brought her back to the bank, indignant.  She told him that he had no business to laugh at her.

‘But,’ he ended by asking, ’how are we going to cook your fish when you have caught it?  There is no wood about.’

That put the finishing touch to her discouragement.  However, the fish in that stream didn’t seem to be good for much; so she came out of the water and ran through the long grass to get her feet dry.

‘See,’ she suddenly exclaimed, ’here is some pimpernel.  It is very nice.  Now we shall have a feast.’

Serge was ordered to gather a quantity of the pimpernel and place it on the table.  They ate it with their crusts.  Albine declared that it was much better than nuts.  She assumed the position of mistress of the establishment, and cut Serge’s bread for him, for she would not trust him with the knife.  At last she made him store away in the ‘cupboard’ the few drops of wine that remained at the bottom of the bottle.  He was also ordered to sweep the grass.  Then Albine lay down at full length.

‘We are going to sleep now, you know.  You must lie down by my side.’

He did as he was ordered.  They lay there stiffly staring into the air, and saying that they were asleep, and that it was very nice.  After a while, however, they drew slightly away from one another, averting their heads as if they felt some discomfort.  And at last breaking the silence which had fallen between them, Serge exclaimed:  ‘I love you very much.’

It was love such as it is without any sensual feeling; that instinctive love which wakens in the bosom of a little man ten years old at the sight of some white-robed baby-girl.  The meadow-lands, spreading around them all open and free, dissipated the slight fear each felt of the other.  They knew that they lay there, seen of all the herbage, that the blue sky looked down upon them through the light foliage of the willows, and the thought was pleasant to them.  The willow canopy over their heads was a mere open screen.  The shade it cast was so imperceptible that it wafted to them none of the languor that some