All the boats soon arrived, and the basket of flowers borne in state, adorned the centre of the table, around which we took our places, the most fortunate beside a young girl; to win this favour it was enough to know her relatives, which explains why I found myself by Sylvie, whose brother had already joined me in the march, and reproached me for neglecting to visit them. I excused myself by the plea that my studies kept me in Paris, and averred that I had come with that intention. "No," said Sylvie, "I am sure he has forgotten me. We are only village folk, and a Parisian is far above us." I tried to stop her mouth with a kiss, but she still pouted, and her brother had to intercede before she would offer me her cheek with an indifferent air. I took no pleasure in this salute, a favour accorded to plenty of others, for in that patriarchal country where a greeting is bestowed upon every passing stranger, a kiss means only an exchange of courtesies between honest people. To crown the enjoyment of the day, a surprise had been contrived, and, at the close of the repast, a wild swan, hitherto imprisoned beneath the flowers, soared into the air, bearing aloft on his powerful wings, a tangle of wreaths and garlands, which were scattered in every direction. While he darted joyously toward the last bright gleams of the sun, we tried to seize the falling chaplets, to crown our fair neighbours. I was so fortunate as to secure one of the finest, and Sylvie smilingly granted me a kiss more tender than the last, by which I perceived that I had now redeemed the memory of a former occasion. She had grown so beautiful that my present admiration was without reserve, and I no longer recognised in her the little village maid, whom I had slighted for one more skilled in the graces of the world. Sylvie had gained in every respect; her black eyes, seductive from childhood, had become irresistibly fascinating, and there was something Athenian in her arching brows, together with the sudden smile lighting up her quiet, regular features. I admired this classic profile contrasting with the mere prettiness of her companions. Her taper fingers, round, white arms and slender waist changed her completely, and I could not refrain from telling her of the transformation, hoping thus to hide my long unfaithfulness. Everything favoured me, the delightful influences of the feast, her brother's regard, the evening hour, and even the spot chosen by a tasteful fancy to celebrate the stately rites of ancient gallantry. We escaped from the dance as soon as possible, to compare recollections of our childhood and to gaze, side by side, with dreamy pleasure, upon the sunset sky reflected in the calm waters. Sylvie's brother had to tear us from the contemplation of this peaceful scene by the unwelcome summons that it was time to start for the distant village where she dwelt. V. THE VILLAGE.