"When the sun goes to rest, you will go to the brook?" Sister Anne made an affirmative gesture, then hastened back to the cabin, driving her goats before her. But she turned her head before she went in, and looked back to the place where she had left Frédéric, smiled at him, and disappeared. That glance and smile enraptured the young lover; he had already ceased to be a stranger to Sister Anne; that thought filled his heart with joy. It needs so little to make one happy, in love! Frédéric went back to the place where he had left his horse; but, on the way, he asked himself whether he should go to Grenoble and return at night. It seemed to him more natural to remain in the village, to take a light lunch there, and then to wander about in the neighborhood of the cabin, which, even now, he found it so hard to leave. He cared little what his fellow travellers might think or say. They must end by accustoming themselves to his absences, for Frédéric had a feeling that he would come often to Vizille, or, rather, that he would rarely go to Grenoble. She whom he loved dwelt in those woods; Sister Anne was all in all to him; he no longer thought of the future, his station in life, or his father's plans; he saw only her, he had no wish to live except for her. To be sure, his love dated only from the night before, and he was only twenty-one. In the village, whither he went to rest and breakfast, he talked about Sister Anne; and everyone seemed to take pleasure in praising her virtue, her sweet nature, her tender heart; but they generally added: "The poor girl is greatly to be pitied; she stands a good chance of spending her life in that miserable hut; for what man would ever marry an unfortunate mute?" Frédéric smiled and held his peace; but he was thinking that he had seen in Paris many women resplendent with beauty, charm, and talents, and that he preferred the dumb girl of the forest to them all. He found in the village such refreshment as he required; he saw that his horse was bountifully fed; then, mounting him again, he rode back to the woods, where he fastened him to a tree near the stream, then bent his steps toward the lonely cabin. The sun had performed but half his journey; but Frédéric hoped that, if he prowled about the little house, he might see Sister Anne, which would make it easier for him to wait patiently until evening. As he approached the garden fence, which was only four feet high, he had no difficulty in taking in at a glance the whole extent of the garden. It was small, but they had made the most that could be made of it. Several fruit trees, a few grapevines, vegetables, and flowers, were growing together in that contracted space, where nature was at liberty to follow all her caprices.