“That Lili is always so fussy,” yawned Paul, in his handkerchief.
But his laziness was too much for Etienne, who pulled him down the hillock by his legs, to the great amusement of the girls.
It was very warm, however, and they could not help it—they too began to feel lazy. They would walk about after lunch. When peace had been restored between Paul and Etienne, Frédérique laid her head on Eetje’s knees, whilst he tickled her ears with a straw; Paul was half asleep, languid with heat and comfort, and Marie sat staring contemplatively, with a suggestion of sadness about her mouth, at the meadows and the ditches and the grazing cattle. [[183]]
The path along which Georges and Lili descended was a very easy one. She floated down, as it were, her hands clasping his shoulder, and he hurried at a quick pace. Quicker and quicker he went; and she laughed lightly; it was as though she were endowed with wings.
“How stupid of them to stay there under that burning sun! Look, over yonder, under those trees.”
“Those chestnuts?”
“Yes; shall we try?”
“Yes.”
They clambered up, he assisting her, and penetrated through on to the wooded hillocks. It was delightfully cool and shady there, whilst just a few paces off the sun was scorching.
“Oh! isn’t it pretty here?” cried Lili. “And look, violets!”