more.  It exhibited every humour as it sped along over soft sand or rocky boulders, over sparkling pebbles or greasy clay, where leaping frogs made yellow puddles.  Albine and Serge dabbled about in delight, and even walked homewards through the stream in preference to remaining on the bank.  At every little island that divided the current they landed.  They conquered the savage spot or rested beneath the lofty canes and reeds, which seemed to grow there expressly as shelter for shipwrecked adventurers.  Thus they made a delightful progress, amused by the changing scenery of the banks, enlivened by the merry humour of the living current.

But when they were about to leave the river, Serge realised that Albine was still seeking something along the banks, on the island, even among the plants that slept on the surface of the water.  He was obliged to go and pull her from the midst of a patch of water-lilies whose broad leaves set collerettes around her limbs.  He said nothing, but shook his finger at her.  And at last they went home, walking along, arm in arm, like young people after a day’s outing.  They looked at each other, and thought one another handsomer and stronger than before, and of a certainty their laughter had a different ring from that with which it had sounded in the morning.

XI

‘Are we never going out again?’ asked Serge some days later.

And when he saw Albine shrug her shoulders with a weary air, he added, in a teasing kind of way, ’You have got tired of looking for your tree, then?’

They joked about the tree all day and made fun of it.  It didn’t exist.  It was only a nursery-story.  Yet they both spoke of it with a slight feeling of awe.  And on the morrow they settled that they would go to the far end of the park and pay a visit to the great forest-trees which Serge had not yet seen.  Albine refused to take anything along with them.  They breakfasted before starting and did not set off till late.  The heat of the sun, which was then great, brought them a feeling of languor, and they sauntered along gently, side by side, seeking every patch of sheltering shade.  They lingered neither in the garden nor the orchard, through which they had to pass.  When they gained the shady coolness beneath the big trees, they dropped into a still slower pace; and, without a word, but with a deep sigh, as though it were welcome relief to escape from the glare of day, they pushed on into the forest’s depths.  And when they had nothing but cool green leaves about them, when no glimpse of the sunlit expanse was afforded by any gap in the foliage, they looked at each other and smiled, with a feeling of vague uneasiness.

‘How nice it is here!’ murmured Serge.

Albine simply nodded her head.  A choking sensation in her throat prevented her from speaking.  Their arms were not passed as usual round each other’s waist, but swung loosely by their sides.  They walked along without touching each other, and with their heads inclined towards the ground.