Moreover, if the latter should ever see her returning she intended to tell him some tale or other, staring at him the while with that stern look which always reduced him to silence.
Ah! how happy those warm evenings were! The lovers had now reached the first days of September, a month of bright sunshine in Provence.

It was hardly possible for them to join each other before nine o'clock.

Miette arrived from over the wall, in surmounting which she soon acquired such dexterity that she was almost always on the old tombstone before Silvere had time to stretch out his arms.

She would laugh at her own strength and agility as, for a moment, with her hair in disorder, she remained almost breathless, tapping her skirt to make it fall.

Her sweetheart laughingly called her an impudent urchin.