She followed him with nimble step, at times humming a cavatina, at others addressing him fresh instructions as to the manner of holding her bouquet, or touching him lightly with the end of her cane, to make him admire some birds perched upon a branch.
Clotilde and Monsieur de Moras were waiting for them, seated upon a bench outside the gate of the chateau.

The anxiety depicted upon their countenances vanished at the sound of Julia's laughing voice.
As soon as she saw them, she snatched the bouquet from Lucan's hands, ran toward Clotilde, and throwing on her lap her fragrant harvest: "Mother," she said, "we have had a delightful walk--I had a great deal of fun; Monsieur de Lucan also, and what's more, he has improved very much by my conversation, I opened up new horizons to him!" She described with her hand a great curve in the air, to indicate the immensity of the horizons she had opened up to Monsieur de Lucan.

Then, drawing her mother toward the dining-room, and snuffing the air with apparent relish: "Oh! that kitchen of my mother's!" she said.

"What an aroma!" This charming humor, which was a source of great rejoicing to all the guests of the chateau, never flagged during that entire day, and, most unexpected of all, it continued during the next and the following days without perceptible change.

If Julia did still nurture any remnants of her moody cares, she had at least the kindness of keeping them to herself, and to suffer alone.