And at this thought Miette one evening had a strange whim, and asked Silvere to turn the stone over to see what might be under it.

He refused, as though it were sacrilege, and his refusal strengthened Miette's fancies with regard to the dear phantom which bore her name.

She positively insisted that the girl had died young, as she was, and in the very midst of her love.

She even began to pity the stone, that stone which she climbed so nimbly, and on which they had sat so often, a stone which death had chilled, and which their love had warmed again.
"You'll see, this tombstone will bring us misfortune," she added.

"If you were to die, I should come and lie here, and then I should like to have this stone set over my body." At this, Silvere, choking with emotion, scolded her for thinking of such mournful things.
And so, for nearly two years, their love grew alike in the narrow pathway and the open country.