“I am going to see if the hens have laid any eggs.”
Edmond was on the point of calling after her: “Oh! mademoiselle, don’t make them lay for me!” for no one is so likely as a bright man to say foolish things, when he is in love. However, he caught himself in time, and Honorine said to him:
“You will permit us to forego ceremony, won’t you?”
“It is a sign of friendship, madame.”
“Very well; I will leave you and finish my toilet. Meanwhile, will you walk, or will you go back to the salon? You are musical, I believe; you can play on the piano; in short, make yourself quite at home.”
“Thanks, madame, thanks a thousand times.”
Honorine retired to the house; Edmond, left alone in the garden, strolled about there for some time, then entered the summer-house and sat down.
“She comes here to work,” he thought; “it is here she sits—she said so just now. Sweet girl! she blushes when I glance at her; and then she lowers her eyes; she seems moved, perturbed. Oh! if she might love me!”
And the young lover, absorbed by his thoughts, leaned against the window and looked out into the country. But he looked without seeing, his mind was busy with Agathe alone.
Suddenly he remembered Freluchon, whom he had almost forced to take the trip with him; who must be waiting for him now, to eat matelote, and who would be furious if he did not join him.