"Only two days more and I shall be your husband, my Blanche," said Urbain, pressing the young girl's hands in a tender transport. "Oh, my dearest, how very happy we shall be, when we no longer have to part, even for a few hours," answered Blanche, smiling at her lover, "how much I shall like living in the country! I shall breathe more freely there in the pure air, I am sure, than in this close room. We shall play and run on the grass, shall we not, dear?" "Yes, and we will work in our own garden." "How delightful! We shall have flowers then, and I am so passionately fond of them." "We shall have some cows also, I hope," said Marguerite. "Oh, yes, dear nurse, and some pigeons, and rabbits and fowls--it will all be so delightful. It seems to me that when I was a very little child I lived in the country, in a house where they had all those things." "Poor Blanche! and is that all you remember of your infancy?" "I still remember a lady who was always with me, who often kissed me; no doubt she was my mother." "Poor woman!" said Marguerite; "perhaps she is still living; and to think that no one knows. But away with sad thoughts!" "Then you'll not regret Paris, my dear Blanche," said Urbain. "Would you wish me to regret it, dear, when you are with me?" "Those dear children!" said the old servant rising from her chair; "it is Providence which has brought them together, for they are made for one another. But it's nine o'clock, Monsieur Urbain, you must go." "Nine o'clock already! The time is approaching when we need part no more, but the days seem very long now, because I spend them away from you." "It's the same with me, dear; it seems to me that evening will never come." "I haven't seen M. Touquet for some days." "And you'll not see him this evening," said Marguerite; "he received a letter after dinner. It was no doubt some pressing matter of business, for he left immediately and has not yet returned." "Good-by, then, dear Blanche." "Good-by, my dear." "Two days more. It seems a long time to wait." "You have managed to live through a fortnight," said Marguerite. "Yes, I don't know why, but these last few days seem to me as if they would be eternal." Urbain could not tear himself away from Blanche; his heart was oppressed; the eyes of both the young lovers were filled with tears; the young girl extended her hand to her friend and he pressed it to his heart. "I don't know what's the matter with me," said Blanche, "but your going makes me sadder than usual." "What childishness!" said Marguerite; "no one would suppose that you were going to meet within two days. Isn't M. Urbain coming tomorrow evening? Come, come, it's time to go to bed."