But when she saw him in the Jas, at a few steps from her, she gave a faint cry of surprise, and ran up to him.

They took each other's hand, and looked at one another, delighted to be so near, thinking themselves far handsomer like this, in the warm sunshine.

It was the middle of August, the Feast of the Assumption.

In the distance, the bells were pealing in the limpid atmosphere that so often accompanies great days of festival, an atmosphere full of bright gaiety.
"Good morning, Silvere!" "Good morning, Miette!" The voices in which they exchanged their morning greetings sounded strange to them.

They knew only the muffled accents transmitted by the echo of the well.