affairs of life exasperated and humiliated him, and at the same time that he felt his self-love most deeply wounded, he was conscious of being more hopelessly enamored of Reine Vincart.  Never had she appeared so beautiful as during the indignant movement which had separated her from him.  Her look of mingled anger and sadness, the expression of her firm, set lips, the quivering nostrils, the heaving of her bosom, he recalled it all, and the image of her proud beauty redoubled his grief and despair.

He remained a long time concealed in the shadow of the hut.  Finally, when he heard the voices dying away in different directions, and was satisfied that the charcoal-men were attending to their furnace work, he made up his mind to come out.  But, as he did not wish to meet any one, instead of crossing through the cutting he plunged into the wood, taking no heed in what direction he went, and being desirous of walking alone as long as possible, without meeting a single human visage.

As he wandered aimlessly through the deepening shadows of the forest, crossed here and there by golden bars of light from the slanting rays of the setting sun, he pondered over the probable results of his unfortunate behavior.  Reine would certainly keep silence on the affront she had received, but would she be indulgent enough to forget or forgive the insult?  The most evident result of the affair would be that henceforth all friendly relations between them must cease.  She certainly would maintain a severe attitude toward the person who had so grossly insulted her, but would she be altogether pitiless in her anger?  All through his dismal feelings of self-reproach, a faint hope of reconciliation kept him from utter despair.  As he reviewed the details of the shameful occurrence, he remembered that the expression of her countenance had been one more of sorrow than of anger.  The tone of melancholy reproach in which she had uttered the words:  “I did not expect this from you, Monsieur de Buxieres!” seemed to convey the hope that he might, one day, be forgiven.  At the same time, the poignancy of his regret showed him how much hold the young girl had taken upon his affections, and how cheerless and insipid his life would be if he were obliged to continue on unfriendly terms with the woodland queen.

He had come to this conclusion in his melancholy reflections, when he reached the outskirts of the forest.

He stood above the calm, narrow valley of Vivey; on the right, over the tall ash-trees, peeped the pointed turrets of the chateau; on the left, and a little farther behind, was visible a whitish line, contrasting with the surrounding verdure, the winding path to La Thuiliere, through the meadow-land of Planche-au-Vacher.  Suddenly, the sound of voices reached his ears, and, looking more closely, he perceived Reine and Claudet walking side by side down the narrow path.  The evening air softened the resonance of the voices, so that the words themselves were not audible, but