Instantly the young man was in his mother's arms, and seated by her side on the trunk of a fallen chestnut lying parallel with the stream, which in his haste he had cleared at a bound, discarding the assistance of the little bridge of trees of which the young girl was more prudently taking advantage.
"Ah! my poor Olivier! What anxiety you have caused us! Why are you so late? And after being out all night, too?"
"Did you not know that I should not be back?" the young man asked, looking at his mother.
"Yes, but we expected you earlier this morning."
"It does certainly seem as if it had happened on purpose," he said, as he explained to them why he was so late, and he went on to tell them how he had been kept at the last moment by his employer for some pressing work at Saint-Prix, a little village then in full gala, and distant about a league from the forest. The Democratic Society of the district had joined for this occasion with the Montmorency Society, and there were of course masts to put up, a stand to erect, or rather to improvise, for everything was behindhand. Olivier had been told off to fix iron supports to the steps raised for the convenience of the populace. They had worked, he said, till late in the night by candle light, and in the morning, when he was preparing to come home, he had to go to l'Ermitage to open a bookcase, just to oblige the gardener who was such a good fellow, though the tenant...
"Who is he?" interrupted Clarisse, always fearful and uneasy at the thought of her son going to a stranger's house.
"I don't know at all," replied Olivier. "I only know that he didn't even disturb himself to thank me. They have pretty manners, these Republicans; the old aristocracy were at least polite."
But his mother stopped him.
"Oh, hush! Do not speak like that; suppose you were heard!"
And, putting her arms round his neck, as if to shield him from some possible danger, she asked him what news he brought from the workshop.