On the following day, I proposed to Frédérique that we should take a long walk; she assented, and we started. We had not walked fifty yards, when we saw Armantine coming toward us. I noticed that she was dressed more coquettishly than on the day before. Frédérique could not restrain an angry gesture as she muttered: "Ah! it seems that she was watching us! This bids fair to be amusing!" "Are you going to walk?" asked Armantine, looking at me. "It looks rather like it," replied Frédérique. "Will you allow me to go with you? As I don't know the country at all, I am very glad to find guides." "You have the right to come with us. But I warn you that I am a good walker, and Charles and I take very long walks." "Oh! I can walk very well!--Besides, if I get tired, I fancy that monsieur will kindly give me his arm." "It will be at your service, madame," I replied, with cold courtesy. But Frédérique, who had my arm at that moment, instantly dropped it, saying: "In the country, people walk singly; that's the most convenient way." I looked at her in surprise, for we were not accustomed to walk so. We started again. Armantine went into ecstasies over the scenery; she kept exclaiming every minute: "Why, it is perfectly lovely here! I am delighted that I came; I am immensely pleased already!" Frédérique said nothing, or replied only by a few curt phrases. I carried on the conversation with Madame Sordeville, who constantly asked me for information about the region, and was never at a loss for questions which enabled her to talk with me. I fancied that I could see that Frédérique was irritated by it; but I could not be discourteous to the other, who talked to me incessantly. Our walk was gloomy enough. Frédérique was the first to suggest returning. Thereupon Armantine complained of being tired. It was impossible to avoid offering her my arm, which she eagerly accepted. I offered the other to Frédérique, but she refused it. I wondered what the matter was. Armantine left us at her door, having informed her friend that she would pass the evening with her. Frédérique was pale and excited; I asked her the cause of her anger, and why she had refused my arm. "In order to leave you alone with the object of your love!" she replied, with a piercing glance that seemed to seek to read my inmost thoughts. That glance gave birth to a hope so delicious that a thrill of joy ran through my whole being; but I dared not dwell upon that thought. I should be too happy if I had guessed aright. Armantine passed the whole evening with her friend. She worked, while we played and sang. Frédérique asked me to sing a ballad; I complied, and apparently acquitted myself creditably, for I saw that Armantine listened to me with amazement; and when I had finished, Frédérique said: "That was very good, Charles; you were more successful than at Armantine's reception." I laughed at the remembrance of my false note; but Madame Sordeville lowered her eyes and did not laugh.