A selfish or ambitious girl would have been more prudent. She would have made the avowal of her feelings depend upon harsher conditions. She would have refused to see her lover again until such time as he should come prepared to go through with all the formalities, including the request for her hand. But Gilberte's mind never entertained such precautions. She felt in her heart a something infinite, a faith in and respect for her lover's word, which had no bounds. She was no longer disturbed save by one thing; the thought that she might become a source of discord and affliction in Emile's family on the day that he spoke to his father. She could entertain no doubt of the victory which he was so certain of winning; but the thought of the battle pained her and she would have liked to postpone the awful moment. "Listen," she said, with angelic naïveté, "there is no hurry; we are happy as we are, and young enough to wait. I am afraid indeed that will be your father's principal and strongest objection; you are only twenty-one, and he may fear that you have not made your choice with sufficient care, that you have not examined your fiancée's character closely enough. If he talks to you about waiting, and asks for time to reflect, submit to every test. Even if we should not be united for several years, what does it matter, provided that we see each other, since we cannot doubt each other's constancy?" "Oh! you are a saint!" Emile replied, kissing the edge of her scarf, "and I will be worthy of you." When they returned to the place where they had left Antoine, they saw him at some distance talking with a miller of his acquaintance, and they went to the foot of the great tower to meet him. The hours passed for them like seconds, and yet they were as full of events as centuries. How many things they said to each other, and how many more they did not say! Then the happiness of looking at each other, of understanding and loving each other, became so intense that they were seized with a wild gayety, and, joining hands, ran down the steep slopes, leaping like deer, throwing stones to the foot of the precipices, so transported with an unfamiliar joy that they were no more conscious of danger than young children. Emile pushed the débris from his path or jumped over it excitedly. One would have said that he fancied that he was confronted by obstacles placed in his way by destiny. Gilberte had no fear, either for him or for herself. She laughed aloud; she shouted and sang like a bird in the air, and forgot to fasten up her hair, which floated in the wind, and sometimes completely enveloped her like a veil of fire.