“Would you like to take my line, Suzel?”
“Willingly, Frantz.”
“Then give me your canvas. We shall see whether I am more adroit with the needle than with the hook.”
And the young girl took the line with trembling hand, while her swain plied the needle across the stitches of the embroidery. For hours together they thus exchanged soft words, and their hearts palpitated when the cork bobbed on the water. Ah, could they ever forget those charming hours, during which, seated side by side, they listened to the murmurs of the river?
the young girl took the line
The sun was fast approaching the western horizon, and despite the combined skill of Suzel and Frantz, there had not been a bite. The barbels had not shown themselves complacent, and seemed to scoff at the two young people, who were too just to bear them malice.
“We shall be more lucky another time, Frantz,” said Suzel, as the young angler put up his still virgin hook.
“Let us hope so,” replied Frantz.