"Oh! no, I stifle there. I dream at night that they are pressing in to strangle me. I went to Cauterets with mama after she had bronchitis. I spent all my time climbing to get a view of a horizon and breathe better. As soon as mama was well the Doctor sent us away saying that it was not good for me." "And the forest?" asked Albert. "The forest hides the sky too much. Nothing makes me as sad as the deep woods." "And the lakes, cousin, what do you say of them?" "A lake makes me shiver. I feel constrained before a lake as before a person whom I know to be false and perfidious. Of course, the sea is dangerous, but no one is ignorant of its caprices, its violence, its tragic love bouts with the wind. The sea is open, whether in laughter or fury. See, look off there," she said, standing upon the rock. "This evening it is calm as a lake, and still the waves are all rippling, preparing for an assault on this rock! It is so immensely alive, even in its great reserve!" The silhouette of the young girl, cut against the horizon, was blurred by the passing night mist. She seemed a flower blooming by moon-light. Maurice said in a low tone to Genevieve, "See if you can realize this picture. It is beyond the power of any painter." "One of the aboriginals might have succeeded. He would not have been guided by any of the conventions that are introduced in all the arts and bar the way to the realism of the ideal, which is dear to all true artists." "The realism of the ideal is very true, but how are you going to make amateurs or critics feel that?" "Oh!" replied Genevieve, with much conviction, "There is always an amateur of the beautiful, there is always a critic who describes his emotion sincerely, it is for them that I give my tears when I am on the stage." Esperance dropped on her knees, and taking her friend's head in her hands, "You are always right, Genevieve," she said. "It is a great gift to have you for a friend." "My little cousin speaks truth," concluded Maurice. Genevieve stretched out her hand with a smile to thank him. The young man kept the contact of that charming strong hand and kissed it with more warmth than convention required. "Monsieur Maurice," murmured the girl with trembling lips. But she could not voice a reproach. She got up to hide her blushes. "Is not this the time for us to go back? The air is getting sharp, and you have no wraps, Esperance." Count Styvens stood up to his full height and stretched his hands to his little idol to help her up, but she had withdrawn before the two arms stretched towards her, and recoiled in a kind of fright. "Did I startle you?" "Oh! No," she said nervously, "But I was dreaming, I was far away...." "Where were you, cousin?" "I don't know. Thoughts are sometimes so scattered that it is hardly possible to give a clear impression."