When he stopped, the inexplicable sense of danger which had visited him had not vanished; it was alive within him.
In the wood the soft night sighed sadly.... And later Marcel had reason to remember this hour when he had run through the shadows towards something intoxicating and to be feared—which was love.
CHAPTER IV
A MORNING AT LA CHÊNAIE
“I’ve come to take away your children,” said Jean Berlier to Madame Guibert after he had shaken hands with her.
“Don’t take them from me, please,” she answered softly. And she smiled her delicate sweet smile. The young man had surprised her seated under the chestnut trees at work, near the front of the old house. She had put on her spectacles to see the stitches of her needlework. Soon she called to Marcel and Paule, who were walking about in the garden at a little distance. And when they were coming down the weed-grown path she inquired almost timidly:
“Are you going to La Chênaie?”
“Yes,” answered Jean, “for a game of croquet or tennis.”
Then, as if he regretted his words, he added:
“If you like, Madame, I will say no more about it.”
“Oh, no. Marcel needs diversion and exercise—he has been used to an active life. And my little Paule has lived too long with her old mother.”