Babet spread a tablecloth like snow, and laid some dishes of fruit upon the table. Hector took a tender farewell of Daphnè, and kissed her hand at least a dozen times. At last he tore himself away, with a promise that he would be with her at daybreak next morning. CHAPTER V. Daphnè hardly slept all night in her chamber. She was disturbed by many thoughts, and became alarmed at the step she had taken. At earliest dawn she threw open her window. The first sun-rays, reflected on a thousand dewdrops on the trees; the chirping of the birds, which already began their matin song; the joyous voice of the cock, which crowed in a most satisfactory and majestic manner in the paddock of her hostess; all these sights and sounds, to which she was so little accustomed, restored her serenity of mind once more. She dwelt more on the attractions of her love--so adventurous, so romantic. Love's ways, like those of wickedness, are strewed at first with roses, and Daphnè was only at the entrance of the path. While she was repelling from her heart the miserable fancies that had crowded on her at night, she all of a sudden perceived Hector by the whitethorn hedge. "Welcome! welcome!" she cried, "you come to me with the sun." "How lovely you are this morning!" said Hector to her, with a look of admiration which there needed no physiognomist to discover was profoundly real. She looked at herself when he spoke, and perceived she was but half dressed. She threw herself on the foot of her bed. "What am I to do?" she thought, "I can't always wear a silk petticoat and a corset of white satin?" She dressed herself notwithstanding, as last night, trusting to fate for the morrow. Hector had brought her writing materials, and she composed a tender adieu to her mamma. "Admirably done!" cried Hector; "I have a peasant here who will carry it to Madame Deshoulieres--as for me, I shall go as usual to the Park d'Urtis at noon. When they see me they will have no suspicion. Your mamma goes away this evening, so that after to-day we shall have nothing to fear." The lovers breakfasted in the spirits which only youth and love can furnish. Daphnè had herself gone to the fountain with the broken pitcher of the cottage. "You perceive, Hector," she said, on seating herself at the table, "that I have all the qualifications of a peasant girl." "And all the gracefulness of a duchess," added the youth. At one o'clock Hector had found his way to the meadow. Nobody was there. He opened the gate of the park, and before he had gone far was met by Madame Deshoulieres. "My daughter!" she cried in an agitated voice; "You have not seen my daughter?" "I was in hopes of seeing her here," replied Hector, with a start of well-acted surprise. "She is gone off," resumed the mother; "gone off, like a silly creature, to some convent, disguised as a shepherdess--the foolish, senseless girl!--and I am obliged to depart this very day, so that it is impossible to follow her."