The girl was, as it were, wrapped in mystery, and Frédéric longed to solve that mystery. Anything that concerned Sister Anne was no longer a matter of indifference to him. He walked toward her very softly; he was close beside her, and she did not raise her eyes. "How is this?" said Frédéric, in a trembling voice; "you do not imitate your companions? They are dancing within a few yards, and you stay by yourself in this lonely spot?" At the sound of Frédéric's voice, the girl turned her head and started back in alarm; but, in a moment, reassured by his gentle tone, she became calm again, and simply rose and moved away from the brook. "Have you some trouble, some profound sorrow? Can it be that you, young as you are, are already acquainted with unhappiness? If it were in my power to lighten your burden, I should consider myself very fortunate." The girl glanced at him with an expression in which melancholy resignation was blended with gratitude. She fastened her lovely eyes on his for a moment, then, with a graceful courtesy, started to walk away. He took her hand and gently detained her. She seemed surprised, yes, frightened, and withdrew her hand from the young man's, who was already pressing it. "You are going away," said Frédéric, "without answering me, without deigning to say a word to me?" The girl's eyes became even more expressive, as if animated by indescribable pain; in a moment, they were filled with tears, which trickled down her almost colorless cheeks. "Great heaven! you weep! can it be that I am the cause?" cried Frédéric, seizing the poor child's hand again. She made a sign, as if to say that it was not his fault. A faint smile broke through her tears; but she withdrew her hand again, and, darting into the thickest part of the wood, as light of foot as a fawn, she speedily disappeared. He took a few steps in the same direction; but it was quite dark, and he could not see where she went. So he returned to the stream and stopped at the place where she had been sitting. Frédéric could not as yet fully realize his feelings, but he was conscious of a sentiment for that girl more tender, more intense, and at the same time much more delicious to his heart, than any of his previous passions. When he lost sight of her, his heart beat violently; it seemed to him already that she was something to him. What grace, what charms! But why that melancholy and that silence? They called her Sister Anne: what was the significance of that title of _Sister_? Did she belong to some religious order? But, no; her costume did not indicate anything of that kind, and she was free to go where she chose. But there was an air of mystery about her.