The minutes passed by--the petals of the cherry-blossoms fell in showers. And lo, here is a woman stooping to unlatch the gate--it is she! She stands erect, and walks onwards in the middle of the path, between its two borders of grass--quite slowly, for she is gazing upwards. She is looking at the white blossoms which are open. The idea of a bride's wedding wreath, an idea so familiar to young girls, passes through her mind. Odile does not smile, only her face beams with an uplifted look, and an involuntary stretching out of her hands gives the greeting and thanks of her youth to the joyous earth. She goes down towards Alsheim. On her fur cap, on her rounded cheeks, on her blue cloth dress, the wild cherry-trees shed their blossoms. She is serious. In her left hand she carries a prayer book, half hidden in the folds of her skirt. She thinks she is alone. The splendour of the day speaks to her. But there is nothing languid about her. She is a valiant creature; she is made to face life bravely. Her eyes, which seek the tree-tops, are alive and masters of her thoughts, and do not give themselves up to a tempting dream. She was drawing near, never suspecting that Jean was waiting for her. The meal-time ended, the usual noises were going on in the village of Alsheim, rumbling cart-wheels, barking dogs, voices of men, of children calling to each other, but all softened by the distance, scattered in the vast aerial space, drowned in the tide of the wind, as is the noise of a clod of earth which has become loose and falls into the sea. As she came near, Jean took off his hat and stood up a little on the other side of the hedge. And she who walked between two walls of blossoms, although she was gazing upwards, turned her head, her glance still full of the spring which had excited her. "Oh, is that you?" she said. And she came at once across the strip of grass where the cherry-trees were planted, up to the place in the hedge where Jean was. "I cannot come to you freely as I used to," he said, "so I came to wait for you. I have a favour to ask of you...." "A favour? And you say that so seriously!" She tried to smile, but her lips refused. They had both become pale. "I am going," said Jean, as if he was making a grave declaration; "I am going up to Sainte Odile the day after to-morrow--I shall go to hear the bells ring in Easter. If you also asked for permission to come----" "You have made a vow?" He answered: "Something like it. I must speak to you--to you alone."