CHAPTER IX.
The Reche, literally translated the "Waste," where Marie-Anne had promised to meet Maurice, owed its name to the rebellious and sterile character of the soil.
Nature seemed to have laid her curse upon it.

Nothing would grow there.
The ground was covered with stones, and the sandy soil defied all attempts to enrich it.
A few stunted oaks rose here and there above the thorns and broom-plant.
But on the lowlands of the Reche is a flourishing grove.

The firs are straight and strong, for the floods of winter have deposited in some of the clefts of the rock sufficient soil to sustain them and the wild clematis and honeysuckle that cling to their branches.
On reaching this grove, Maurice consulted his watch.

It marked the hour of mid-day.

He had supposed that he was late, but he was more than an hour in advance of the appointed time.
He seated himself upon a high rock, from which he could survey the entire Reche, and waited.
The day was magnificent; the air intensely hot.