"Imagine my joy, my ecstasy! I walked quickly away from her, lest she should change her mind. Everybody went home, myself with the rest; I longed so for the time when they should all be asleep! My friend's old cuckoo clock struck twelve. I left my room at once, stepping lightly, stole from the house, and hastened to the meadow. I sat down on the grass, a few steps from the gate, and waited impatiently until it should open to admit me to the summit of felicity.
"Half an hour passed, and the gate did not open. I said to myself: 'Someone near her has not gone to bed yet, I suppose, and she's afraid to come down; I must be patient.'—Another half-hour passed and the gate remained closed. I stood up, thinking that she might have left it unlocked so that I could go in. I ran to the gate to find out, but it was locked on the inside. I walked back and forth, I sat down and stood up, keeping my eyes always fixed on that gate, which did not open. I thought of everything that could possibly have delayed my lovely widow, or kept her from coming. One o'clock struck, then the half, then two.—'She has made a fool of me,' I said to myself; 'she won't come at all! But what object could she possibly have in keeping me waiting all night? Does my love deserve such a cruel disappointment? In fact, did she not, of her own motion, tell me to come to-night? No, it isn't possible that she purposely makes me pass such wretched hours here.'
"I could not make up my mind to go. Still hoping, I said to myself at the faintest sound: 'She's coming; here she is!'—But the sound ceased, and she did not appear. Thereupon I would walk away a few steps, but again and again I returned.
"Day broke at last, and with it my last hope vanished! For people rise very early in the country, and, when it was light, I knew very well that the lady would not risk her reputation by coming out to me. So I returned to my friend's house, with despair in my heart, swearing that I would never again address, that I would never look at, that woman who had made such a fool of me.
"But the next day, chance, or rather our own volition, brought us together. I was on the point of heaping reproaches on her, but she gave me no time; with a wrathful glance, she said to me in a voice that shook with indignation:
"'Your conduct is shameful, monsieur: the idea of making sport of me so! of making me pass a whole night in the most intense anxiety! For I had the kindness to believe that something must have happened to you; but I was mistaken. Why, in heaven's name, did you ask for a thing which you did not want? It is perfectly shocking! I detest you, and I forbid you ever to speak to me again!'
"You can imagine my amazement at this harangue. Instead of apologizing, I overwhelmed her with complaints and reproaches for the sleepless night I had passed at the garden gate. My manner was so genuine and so sincere, that the young widow interrupted me.—'What!' she exclaimed; 'you passed the night in the fields? Pray, why didn't you come in, monsieur?'
"'Come in? by what means, madame?'
"'Why, with the key to the little gate, which I myself gave you.'
"'You gave me the key?'