In the space of an hour these were filled; they rose and went to sit on a fallen tree to rest themselves.
Mosquitos swarmed and circled in the fervent afternoon heat.

Every moment the hand must be raised to scatter them; after a panic-stricken flight they straightway returned, reckless and pitiless, bent only on finding one tiny spot to plant a sting; with their sharp note was blended that of the insatiate black-fly, filling the woods with unceasing sound.

Living trees there were not many; a few young birches, some aspens, alder bushes were stirring in the wind among the rows of lifeless and blackened trunks.
Francois Paradis looked about him as though to take his bearings.
"The others cannot be far away," he said.
"No," replied Maria in a low voice.

But neither he nor she called to summon them.
A squirrel ran down the bole of a dead birch tree and watched the pair with his sharp eyes for some moments before venturing to earth.
The strident flight of heavy grasshoppers rose above the intoxicated clamour of the flies; a wandering air brought the fall's dull thunder through the alders.
Francois Paradis stole a glance at Maria, then turned his eyes away and tightly clasped his hands.

Ah, but she was good to look upon! Thus to sit beside her, to catch these shy glimpses of the strong bosom, the sweet face so modest and so patient, the utter simplicity of attitude and of her rare gestures; a great hunger for her awoke in him, and with it a new and marvellous tenderness, for he had lived his life with other men, in hard give-and-take, among the wild forests and on the snowy plains.
Well he knew she was one of those women who, giving themselves, give wholly, reckoning not the cost; love of body and of soul, strength of arm in the daily task, the unmeasured devotion of a spirit that does not waver.