"What is it, my dear little wife," said Gabriel; "and whence this bitter sorrow? Has Enguerrand been scolding us because of a torn dress, or because we made a slip in saying our prayers; or has our pet bullfinch flown away? Tell me, Diane dear. See, your faithful knight has come to comfort you." "Alas! Gabriel, you cannot be my knight any more," said Diane; "and that is just why I am sad and am crying." Gabriel supposed that Diane had learned from Enguerrand her play-fellow's name, and that perhaps she wished to test him. He replied,-- "What has happened, pray, Diane, lucky or unlucky, that can ever make me give up the dear title which you have allowed me to assume, and which I am so proud and happy to bear? See, here I am at your knees." But Diane did not seem to understand; and she wept more bitterly than before, as she hid her face on Gabriel's breast, and sobbed,-- "Oh, Gabriel, Gabriel! We must not see each other any more." "And who is to prevent us?" he rejoined quickly. She raised her lovely fair head and her eyes swimming with tears; then with a little pout, altogether sober and solemn, she replied, sighing profoundly,-- "Duty." Her sweet face assumed an expression that was so despairing and so comical at the same time that Gabriel, fascinated, and entering, as he supposed, fully into her thoughts, could not forbear a laugh; and taking the child's fair face in his hands, he kissed it over and over again; but she nervously drew away from him. "No, my friend," said she, "no more of these little chats of ours. _Mon Dieu! mon Dieu_! they are forbidden us now." "What stories has Enguerrand been telling her?" said Gabriel to himself, persisting in his error; and he added aloud, "Don't you love me any longer, then, dear Diane?" "I! not love you any longer!" cried Diane. "How can you think and say such things, Gabriel? Are you not the friend of my childhood, and my brother for my whole life? Have you not always been as kind and loving as a mother to me? When I laughed, and when I wept, whom was I sure to find at my side, to share my joy or my sorrow? You, Gabriel! Who carried me when I was tired? Who helped me to learn my lessons? Who took the blame for my mistakes, and insisted on sharing my punishment when he couldn't succeed in having it all himself? You again! Who invented a thousand games for me? Who made sweet nosegays for me in the meadows? Who hunted out goldfinches' nests for me in the woods? You, always you! I have found you always, in every place and at all times, so kind and generous and devoted to me, Gabriel. I shall never forget you, Gabriel; and while my heart lives, you will live in my heart. I should have liked to give you my life and my soul, and I have never dreamed of happiness except when I have dreamed of you. But all this, alas! doesn't keep us from being obliged to part, never to see each other again, no doubt."