‘Stop, climb this one,’ she said at last, as she stopped at the foot of a tree, so heavily laden with fruit that clusters of it hung down to the ground, like strings of coral beads. Serge settled himself comfortably between two branches and began his breakfast. He no longer paid attention to Albine. He imagined she was in another tree, a few yards away, when, happening to cast his eyes towards the ground, he saw her calmly lying on her back beneath him. She had thrown herself there, and, without troubling herself to use her hands, was plucking with her teeth the cherries which dangled over her mouth. When she saw she was discovered, she broke out into a peal of laughter, and twisted about on the grass like a fish taken from the water. And finally, crawling along on her elbows, she gradually made the circuit of the tree, snapping up the plumpest cherries as she went along. ‘They tickle me so,’ she cried. ‘See, there’s a beauty just fallen on my neck. They are so deliciously fresh and juicy. They get into my ears, my eyes, my nose, everywhere. They are much sweeter down here than up there.’ ‘Ah!’ said Serge, laughing, ‘you say that because you daren’t climb up.’ She remained for a moment silent with indignation. ‘Daren’t!--I!--’ she stammered. Then, having gathered up her skirts, she tightly grasped the tree and pulled herself up the trunk with a single effort of her strong wrists. And afterwards she stepped lightly along the branches, scarcely using her hands to steady herself. She had all the agile nimbleness of a squirrel, and made her way onward, maintaining her equilibrium only by the swaying poise of her body. When she was quite aloft at the end of a frail branch, which shook dangerously beneath her weight, she cried; ‘Now you see whether I daren’t climb.’ ‘Come down at once,’ implored Serge, full of alarm for her. ‘I beg of you to come down. You will be injuring yourself.’ But she, enjoying her triumph, began to mount still higher. She crawled along to the extreme end of a branch, grasping its leaves in her hands to maintain her hold. ‘The branch will break!’ cried Serge, thoroughly frightened. ‘Let it break,’ she answered, with a laugh; ‘it will save me the trouble of getting down.’ And the branch did break, but only slowly, with such deliberation that, as it gradually settled towards the ground, it let Albine slip down in very gentle fashion. She did not appear in the least degree frightened; but gave herself a shake, and said: ‘That was really nice. It was quite like being in a carriage.’ Serge had jumped down from the tree to catch her in his arms. As he stood there, quite pale from fright, she laughed at him. ‘One tumbles down from trees every day,’ she exclaimed, ‘but there is never any harm done. Look more cheerful, you great stupid! Stay, just wet your finger and rub it upon my neck. I have scratched it.’ Serge wetted his finger and touched her neck with it.