It is when we experience these violent mental crises, that we become suddenly conscious of Nature’s cold indifference to our sufferings.  She really is nothing more than the reflex of our own sensations, and can only give us back what we lend her.  Beautiful but selfish, she allows herself to be courted by novices, but presents a freezing, emotionless aspect to those who have outlived their illusions.

Reine did not reach home until the day had begun to wane.  La Guite informed her that Claudet had waited for her during part of the afternoon, and that he would come again the next day at nine o’clock.  Notwithstanding her bodily fatigue, she slept uneasily, and her sleep was troubled by feverish dreams.  Every time she closed her eyes, she fancied herself conversing with Claudet, and woke with a start at the sound of his angry voice.

She arose at dawn, descended at once to the lower floor, to get through her morning tasks, and as soon as the big kitchen clock struck nine, she left the house and took the path by which Claudet would come.  A feeling of delicate consideration toward her lover had impelled her to choose for her explanation any other place than the one where she had first received his declaration of love, and consented to the marriage.  Very soon he came in sight, his stalwart figure outlined against the gray landscape.  He was walking rapidly; her heart smote her, her hands became like ice, but she summoned all her fortitude, and went bravely forward to meet him.

When he came within forty or fifty feet, he recognized Reine, and took a short cut across the stubble studded with cobwebs glistening with dew.

“Aha! my Reine, my queen, good-morning!” cried he, joyously, “it is sweet of you to come to meet me!”

“Good-morning, Claudet.  I came to meet you because I wish to speak with you on matters of importance, and I preferred not to have the conversation take place in our house.  Shall we walk as far as the Planche-au-Vacher?”

He stopped short, astonished at the proposal and also at the sad and resolute attitude of his betrothed.  He examined her more closely, noticed her deep-set eyes, her cheeks, whiter than usual.

“Why, what is the matter, Reine?” he inquired; “you are not yourself; do you not feel well?”

“Yes, and no.  I have passed a bad night, thinking over matters that are troubling me, and I think that has produced some fever.”

“What matters?  Any that concern us?”

“Yes;” replied she, laconically.

Claudet opened his eyes.  The young girl’s continued gravity began to alarm him; but, seeing that she walked quickly forward, with an absent air, her face lowered, her brows bent, her mouth compressed, he lost courage and refrained from asking her any questions.  They walked on thus in silence, until they came to the open level covered with juniper-bushes, from which solitary place, surrounded by hawthorn hedges, they could trace the narrow defile leading to Vivey, and the faint mist beyond.