A burning state of the atmosphere was scorching up all nature; the sun at its highest point of splendor, presented the image of that celestial glory, before which the angels themselves bow down and worship; the withered plants bent beneath the solar ray; the birds were silent in the depth of the wood; the locust alone, interrupted by his shrill cry, the silence of creation. Bathed in sweat, the reaper slept extended on the sheaf, whilst the traveller, in a like repose by the side of some shaded fountain, awaited the hour when the sun, drawing nearer to the horizon, should permit him to continue his journey. In an apartment, from which the light and heat were half excluded, surrounding a table covered with plants, Stephanie and Leopoldine were listening to M. de Berville, whilst he explained to them the ingenious system of Linnæus, or the more easy system, the “great _families_” of Tournefort, when a letter was brought in for Madame Dorothée, who was engaged in reading. “Sad news! sad news!” she exclaimed, addressing her nieces. “Our excellent neighbor, Madame Rével, has met with a horrible accident; it is feared that her leg is broken.” “Good heavens! can such an accident have happened?” cried Leopoldine. “And yesterday she was so well! We will go to see her to-morrow morning. Shall we not, Stephanie?” “To-day rather, Leopoldine, to-day. Let us not defer for an instant the consolation which it may depend on us to impart to her.” “Well, then, this evening, after the sun has set.” “No, no, let us set out immediately, and we will pass, beside her, the rest of the day; M. de Berville will, I know, excuse us.” “Impossible!” answered Leopoldine, “go out, so hot as it is! it would be wilfully to seek a _coup de soleil_, which would make us perfect blacks for the rest of the summer.” “We can shield ourselves with a veil—with our parasols——” “I should not feel myself safe in a sack; and for nothing in this world would I leave this house till the day is over.” “You forget, Leopoldine, with what courage Madame Rével came from her house alone, on foot, in the middle of a December night, in spite of the frost and the snow, to attend you when you had the measles, because they told her you had expressed a wish to see her instantly.” “Well, sister, I would sooner confront a cold north wind than the sun.” “The heat can no more be stopped than the cold, Leopoldine.” “Nothing is so frightful as a black skin.” “Sister, though I knew I should become as black as an African, I would not leave our friend without consolation at such a time; I will go with our servant girl; believe me, you will hereafter be sorry you did not follow my example.” “Permit _me_ to accompany you, Miss,” said M. de Berville, taking his hat. “Really,” answered Stephanie, “I do not know that I ought to consent to it; an hour's walk beneath a burning sun——”