After dinner, which lasted a very long time, we went into the garden, where coffee had been served, and stretched ourselves out beatifically, cigar in mouth.  All was calm and silent about us, the insects had ceased their music, and in an opaline sky little violet clouds were sleeping.

Oscar, with a happy air, pointed out to me the famous mill, the quiet valley, and farther on his loved stream, in which the sun, before setting, was reflecting itself amid the reeds.  Meanwhile the little queen on her high heels flitted round the cups like a child playing at party-giving, and with a thousand charming touches poured out the boiling coffee, the odor of which blended deliciously with the perfume of the flowers, the hay, and the woods.

When she had finished she sat down beside her husband, so close that her skirt half hid my friend, and unceremoniously taking the cigar from his lips, held it at a distance, with a little pout, that meant, “Oh, the horrid thing!” and knocked off with her little finger the ash which fell on the gravel.  Then she broke into a laugh, and put the cigar back between the lips of her husband held out to her.

It was charming.  Oscar was no doubt accustomed to this, for he did not seem astonished, but placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder, as one would upon a child’s, and, kissing her on the forehead, said, “Thanks, my dear.”

“Yes, but you are only making fun of me,” said the young wife, in a whisper, leaning her head against her husband’s arm.

I could not help smiling, there was so much coaxing childishness and grace in this little whispered sentence.  I do not know why I turned toward the cousin who had remained a little apart, smoking in silence.  He seemed to me rather pale; he took three or four sudden puffs, rose suddenly under the evident influence of some moral discomfort, and walked away beneath the trees.

“What is the matter with cousin?” said Oscar, with some interest.  “What ails him?”

“I don’t know,” answered the little queen, in the most natural manner in the world, “some idea about fishing, no doubt.”

Night began to fall; we had remained as I have said a long time at table.  It was about nine o’clock.  The cousin returned and took the seat he had occupied before, but from this moment it seemed to me that a strange constraint crept in among us, a singular coolness showed itself.  The talk, so lively at first, slackened gradually and, despite all my efforts to impart a little life to it, dragged wretchedly.  I myself did not feel very bright; I was haunted by the most absurd notions in the world; I thought I had detected in the sudden departure of the cousin, in his pallor, in his embarrassed movements, the expression of some strong feeling which he had been powerless to hide.  But how was it that that adorable little woman with such a keen intelligent look did not understand all this, since I understood it myself?  Had not