The garden was carefully tended. Denise planted flowers there. She remembered what she had seen in the lovely bourgeois gardens that she had visited, and she determined that the garden of the cottage should be laid out on the same plan. She desired that Auguste should be agreeably surprised when he visited the cottage, and should compliment her on her taste. "He will see these shrubs," she thought, "these beds of verdure; and he will be surprised that peasants should have done it all as well as people from Paris." But in another moment the girl would sigh and say to herself sadly: "If he has gone to the end of the world, it will be a long time before he comes to see my garden." The winter was succeeded by the lovely days of spring, and Denise heard nothing from Virginie. "She hasn't found out anything about him," thought the girl; "otherwise she would have come to tell me about it." The hope of hearing from Auguste induced Denise to make another trip to Paris. She easily obtained her aunt's permission, and one morning she appeared at Auguste's former abode. As usual, Schtrack was smoking on a bench in front of his lodge. He recognized the girl, and although it was nearly four months since she had fainted in his arms, he called out when he saw her: "Wasn't all the money in the bag?" "What, monsieur? what bag? Has Monsieur Auguste come back?" inquired Denise, gazing anxiously at the old German. "Oh, no! no! The young man is still travelling with Pertrand. But I thought you haf come about the bag of money that fell in the yard, and that you didn't find it all. Sacretié! you see, Schtrack don't joke about questions of honor." "Oh, monsieur! of course I didn't come about that!--Haven't you heard from him, monsieur?" "From who, my child?" "From Monsieur Auguste." "How in the devil do you suppose I could hear from him when he's gone round the world?" "And that lady--have you seen her?" "A lady?" "The one who was here with me the last time I came, and who was kind enough to help me." "Oh ja! the demon! the hussy! the little grenadier!" "Has she been here, monsieur?" "Oh ja! she's been twice to ask for news of the young man." "And she told you nothing about Monsieur Auguste?" "Sacretié! don't I tell you that she came to ask about him? Don't you understand?" "Do you know her address, monsieur?" "The little hussy's?" "Yes, monsieur." "No, I don't know it." Schtrack resumed his smoking, and as Denise could learn nothing from him, she turned away, regretting that she did not know Virginie's address. If she had, she would have gone to see her, not because she supposed her to be any better informed than herself concerning the whereabouts of the travellers, but because she could, at least, have talked with her about Auguste; and it is so great a delight to talk of the person we love, especially with someone who understands us!