Standing beside her, he gazed in admiration at those treasures which she twisted up behind her head with more impatience than pride, and which she would have cut off long before as being an annoying burden, if Antoine and Janille had not strenuously objected. At that moment, however, she was grateful to them for refusing to allow it; for, although she was little inclined to coquetry, she saw that Emile was lost in admiration, and she had done nothing to arouse it. If there are some triumphs of beauty, which love cannot refuse to enjoy, they are those above all which are unforeseen and involuntary. That beautiful hair would have been a genuine compensation to an ugly woman, and in Gilberte's case it was a lavish outlay of nature added to all her other gifts. It should be said that Gilberte, like her father, was industrious rather than clever with her hands, and moreover, she had lost all her pins while running and the heavy braid, hurriedly twisted, twice burst its bonds and fell to her feet. Emile's eyes were still fixed upon her; Gilberte did not see them, but she felt them, as if the atmosphere were filled with the fire of that passionate gaze. She soon became so confused that she forgot to be merry, and finally, as ordinarily, made an effort to relieve, by a jest, their mutual emotion. "I wish this hair was _my own_," she said; "then I would cut it off and throw it into the stream." There was an opportunity for a well-turned compliment; but Emile was careful not to take advantage of it. What could he say about that hair which would express the love he bore it? He had never touched it and he was dying with the longing to do so. He glanced furtively about. A circle of rocks and shrubs isolated Gilberte and himself from the whole world. There was no spot on the mountain from which they could be seen. One would have said that she had selected that sheltered retreat to tempt him, and yet the innocent maiden had not thought of it, nor did she think that she was in any danger there. Emile was no longer master of himself. Insomnia, alarm, grief and joy had kindled fever in his blood. He knelt beside Gilberte and took a handful of her rebellious hair in his trembling hand; then, as she started, he dropped it again, saying: "I thought it was a wasp, but it is only a bit of moss." "You frightened me," said Gilberte, shaking her head; "I thought it was a snake." Meanwhile Emile's hand was clinging to her hair and could not let it go. On the pretext of assisting Gilberte to collect the scattered locks of which the breeze disputed possession with her, he touched it a hundred times, and at last put his lips to it stealthily. Gilberte did not seem to notice it, and hurriedly replacing her hat upon the ill-assured mass, she rose and said with an air which she strove to render unconcerned: "Let us go to see if my father has awakened."