"You are really too stupid!" she retorted, laughing. "Never mind, I love you all the same." They reached the station of the Vincennes line just in time for a train. Baugé paid; but Denise had previously declared that she wished to defray her share of the expenses; they would settle up in the evening. They took second-class tickets, and found the train full of a gay, noisy throng. At Nogent, a wedding-party got out, amidst a storm of laughter. Then, at last they arrived at Joinville, and went straight to the island to order lunch; and afterwards lingered there, strolling along, under the tall poplars beside the Marne. It was rather cold in the shade, a sharp breeze was blowing in the sunshine, gathering strength as it swept from the distance over a plain dotted with cultivated fields, on the other side of the river. Denise lingered behind Pauline and her lover, who walked along with their arms round each other's waists. She had picked a handful of buttercups, and was watching the flow of the river, happy, but her heart beating and her head drooping, each time that Baugé leant over to kiss his sweetheart. Her eyes filled with tears. And yet she was not suffering. What could be the matter with her that she experienced this feeling of suffocation? Why did this vast landscape, amidst which she had looked forward to so much enjoyment, fill her with a vague regret that she could not explain? However, at lunch, Pauline's noisy laughter bewildered her. That young woman, who loved the suburbs with the passion of an actress living in the gas-light, in the heavy atmosphere of a crowd, wanted to lunch in an arbour, notwithstanding the sharp wind. She made merry over the sudden gusts which blew up the table-cloth, and thought the arbour very funny in its bareness, with its freshly-painted trellis-work which cast a reflection on the cloth. She ate ravenously, devouring everything with the voracity of one who, being badly fed at the shop, made up for it out of doors by giving herself an indigestion of all the things she liked. This was indeed her vice, she spent most of her money on cakes and indigestible dainties, tit-bits of all kinds, which she hastily nibbled in leisure moments. Now, however, as Denise seemed to have had enough with the eggs, fried fish, and stewed chicken, she restrained herself, not daring to order any strawberries which were still very dear, for fear of running the bill up too high. "Now, what are we going to do?" asked Baugé, when the coffee was served.