"Which way, Monsieur?"
"To the woods!"
They had not been out more than ten minutes when Bertrand saw a bit of color above the bushes on the edge of the road. His heart began to beat hard; it was the wide pink muslin hat of the little girl.
In another minute she came into full view, stepping lightly along in advance of her mother, to whom she turned to speak. Her hands were full of flowers.
Now she saw the carriage. She looked up at her mother and seemed to say something concerning its occupant. As they drew nearer she walked more slowly, giving long glances at Bertrand, and again dropping her eyes. He, on his part, never took his own from her. She was the sweetest thing he had ever seen. He felt as if he could not let her pass by, the day would be so heavy afterwards. But he could not speak or stop her. His
