He had walked so far that the notes of the bagpipe hardly reached his ears, and was about to return to his companions, when, on turning his head, he espied, within a few paces, a young girl seated on the bank, looking toward the valley with a bewitchingly sweet expression, and smiling at the dance, which she could see in the distance; but there was in her smile a tinge of melancholy which seemed to be a natural part of it. She was apparently fifteen or sixteen years of age. Her garments indicated poverty, but her charms made one overlook them. Beautiful fair hair played in curls about her innocent brow, her features were refined and delicate, her mouth graceful and smiling, and her soft blue eyes wore a pathetic expression of gentle melancholy which harmonized with the pallor of her complexion. Frédéric stopped and gazed at the young woman; he could not tire of contemplating her. Why was she there, alone by the brook, while her companions were making merry and dancing? Why that melancholy expression? It was only a moment since Frédéric's eyes had fallen upon her, and his interest was already awakened; he longed to know all about her; it seemed to him that his heart already shared her sorrows. At that moment, several couples passed along the path on their way to the dance. Frédéric accosted a peasant woman, and said, pointing to the girl sitting by the brook: "Pray, who is that pretty child, and why doesn't she join in your sports?" The villagers stopped and replied, with a compassionate glance at the girl: "Oh! monsieur, the poor dear don't dance! That's Sister Anne." Frédéric, surprised, expected some further explanation; but they went on toward the dance, repeating sadly: "That's Sister Anne." IX WHAT WAS SHE DOING THERE?--THE VILLAGE DANCE The peasants had gone, but Frédéric remained on the path among the willows, where the last rays of the sun cast but a feeble light. He was still gazing at the girl, who did not see him because, being no longer able to see the dance, she had let her head fall on her breast, and her eyes were fixed on the water flowing at her feet. What did those women mean by those words: "Poor dear, she don't dance. That's Sister Anne"? Frédéric was deeply impressed by the tone of commiseration in which this was said. The villagers seemed to pity the lovely child, and to consider it perfectly natural that she should take no part in her companions' pleasures. What grief, what possible cause, could keep that pretty girl away from those scenes of merrymaking? Although her charming features wore an expression of gentle melancholy, she did not seem to be agitated by any recent sorrow; on the contrary, she seemed placid and calm; she smiled at the brook which rippled at her feet, and her soul was evidently as pure as the water in which her face was reflected.