Raoul had faith in that kiss given with the quiet facility of a sacred sentiment.

All the evil of it was in the mind of the world, not in that of the woman who walked beside him.

Marie herself, given over to the grateful admiration which characterizes the love of woman, walked with a firm, light step on the gravelled path, saying, like Raoul, but few words; yet those few were felt and full of meaning.

The sky was cloudless, the tall trees had burgeoned, a few green shoots were already brightening their myriad of brown twigs.

The shrubs, the birches, the willows, the poplars were showing their first diaphanous and tender foliage.