XIII
THE LITTLE HOUSE AT CHELLES
It was the middle of March. There were no leaves on the trees as yet, but there was plenty of sunshine; it was already soft and penetrating and announced the return of spring, of that lovely season of the year when everything seems to be born again—even those persons who are on the downward path.
Ah! why do not men grow green again like trees and shrubs? To be sure, their springtime lasts more than three months, but so few of them know how to make use of it! they do not appreciate it until they have thrown it away, and then they regret it in vain; decidedly the trees are wiser than mankind.
Honorine and her young companion dressed in haste in order to arrive early at the railroad station at the farther end of the Boulevard de Strasbourg, whence they were to take a train for Chelles. The two women were ready in a very short time. Agathe, whose quick and cheerful imagination saw something everywhere to give her pleasure, took the keenest delight in going into the country, although the season was not far enough advanced for the fields to have resumed their robes of green. It was a great diversion to her even to take a short journey by rail.
When one rarely indulges in any amusement, one is not surfeited with all the different forms of distraction; and the shortest walk is a pleasure to one who rarely goes out. This is a compensation to those persons who do not often have an opportunity for enjoyment; little is required to satisfy them, whereas ennui sometimes besets those who are always holiday-making. There are compensations everywhere.
In an hour the two friends had reached their destination. When one arrives at the Chelles station from Paris, the village or hamlet is at the left on a low hill; it is distant about ten minutes' walk; but then it rarely happens that the railways take you just where you want to go. When you arrive at a station, you almost always find yourself in the open fields. You look about in search of the place at which you are supposed to have arrived, and you are surprised to see, instead of houses, fields of cabbages, turnips or potatoes.
Agathe, overjoyed to be in the country, leaped and frolicked about like a child.
"Oh! how good the fresh air feels!" she cried. "One can run about here without dread of those horrid omnibuses that are always behind you or in front of you in Paris! And when everything is in leaf and flower, when the trees give shade, when there are poppies among the wheat, lilies of the valley in the woods, and violets in the hedgerows—oh! then it will be perfectly enchanting! Honorine, don't you think that you'll like it—doesn't all this delight you?"
"Yes, yes, I am very fond of the country."
"Well, why do you sigh then? why do you look so sad when you say it?"