"Two leagues! that seems a long way to me. I have never been beyond the tops of these hills."
"Have you never been to the next town? to Saint-Amand?"
"Oh! no, monsieur! I am strictly forbidden ever to leave my mountains."
"Who forbids you, pray, as you are all alone in the world, and have no relations?"
Isaure made no reply for some seconds; at last she said:
"It was my dear mother who forbade me."
"But now that she is no more—are you not at liberty to follow your own inclinations?"
"To be sure, monsieur; but I have no desire to go to the town. Why should I go there?—Oh, no! I shall never leave dear, kind André’s house, where my childhood was passed."
Edouard was silent for a moment. Isaure ran after one of her goats, which had strayed away; he watched her run lightly up the cliff, then seated himself near where she had been sitting and awaited her return. The beauty of the spot, the perfect peace that reigned among the mountains, which the sun was just beginning to bathe with light, the solitude which surrounded himself and the pretty shepherdess—everything coincided to suggest numberless thoughts to Edouard’s mind. He realized that his heart beat more violently than usual, that his breath came faster, that his imagination was perturbed by a longing for love, or rather for pleasure.
But Isaure returned; she ran up and seated herself beside him, saying with a smile: "Here I am at last!" And there was such perfect innocence, and trust in her action and in her glance, that Edouard blushed inwardly at the thoughts that had come to him; his brain became calm, his heart less agitated; and not until then did he dare to look at Isaure.