When Silvere had convinced himself that it really opened the little door, he awaited the ensuing day, dreaming of the joyful surprise which he was preparing for Miette.

He had not told her for what he had been searching.
On the morrow, as soon as he heard the girl set her pitcher down, he gently opened the door, sweeping away with a push the tall weeds which covered the threshold.

Stretching out his head, he saw Miette leaning over the brink of the well, looking into the water, absorbed in expectation.

Thereupon, in a couple of strides, he reached the recess formed by the wall, and thence called, "Miette! Miette!" in a soft voice, which made her tremble.

She raised her head, thinking he was on the coping of the wall.