Reaching the wall that enclosed the right side of the park, she opened a wicket that led into a narrow path through a large field of ripe corn.

She passed into this path, followed in single file by Mademoiselle Marie and by Camors.

Until now the child had been very quiet, but the rich golden corn-tassels, entangled with bright daisies, red poppies, and hollyhocks, and the humming concert of myriads of flies-blue, yellow, and reddish-brown, which sported amid the sweets, excited her beyond self-control.

Stopping here and there to pluck a flower, she would turn and cry, "Pardon, Monsieur;" until, at length, on an apple-tree growing near the path she descried on a low branch a green apple, no larger than her finger.

This temptation proved irresistible, and with one spring into the midst of the corn, she essayed to reach the prize, if Providence would permit.