At last she said:  “How foolish you must think me!”

“Why?” he asked.  “To come out like this, all alone with you?” “Certainly not; it is quite natural.”  “No, no; it is not natural for me—­because I do not wish to commit a fault, and yet this is how girls fall.  But if you only knew how wretched it is, every day the same thing, every day in the month, and every month in the year.  I live quite alone with Mamma, and as she has had a great deal of trouble, she is not very cheerful.  I do the best I can, and try to laugh in spite of everything, but I do not always succeed.  But all the same, it was wrong in me to come, though you, at any rate, will not be sorry.”

By way of an answer he kissed her ardently on her ear that was nearest him, but she moved from him with an abrupt movement, and getting suddenly angry, she exclaimed:  “Oh!  Monsieur Francois, after what you swore to me!” And they went back to Maison-Laffitte.

They had lunch at the Petit-Havre, a low house, buried under four enormous poplar trees, by the side of the river.  The air, the heat, the light wine, and the sensation of being so close together, made them red and silent, with a feeling of oppression, but after the coffee, they regained all their high spirits, and having crossed the Seine, they started off along the bank, towards the village of La Frette, and suddenly he asked:  “What is your name?” “Louise.”  “Louise,” he repeated, and said nothing more.

The river, which described a long curve, bathed a row of white houses in the distance, which were reflected in the water.  The girl picked the daisies and made them into a great bunch, whilst he sang vigorously, as intoxicated as a colt that has been turned into a meadow.  On their left, a vine-covered slope followed the river, but suddenly Francois stopped motionless with astonishment:  “Oh! look there!” he said.

The vines had come to an end, and the whole slope was covered with lilac bushes in flower.  It was a violet colored wood!  A kind of great carpet stretched over the earth, reaching as far as the village, more than two miles off.  She also stood, surprised and delighted, and murmured:  “Oh! how pretty!” And crossing a meadow they ran towards that curious low hill, which every year furnishes all the lilac which is drawn through Paris on the carts of the street sellers.

A narrow path went beneath the trees, so they took it, and when they came to a small clearing, they sat down.

Swarms of flies were buzzing around them and making a continuous, gentle sound, and the sun, the bright sun of a perfectly still day, shone over the bright slopes, and from that wood of flowers, a powerful aroma was borne towards them, a breath of perfume, of that sweat of the flowers.

A church clock struck in the distance, and they embraced gently, then clasped each other close, lying on the grass, without the knowledge of anything except of that kiss.  She had closed her eyes and held him in her arms, pressing him to her closely, without a thought, with her reason bewildered, and from head to foot in passionate expectation.  And she surrendered herself altogether, without knowing that she had given herself to him.  But she soon came to herself with the feeling of a great misfortune, and she began to cry and sob with grief, with her face buried in her hands.