Alfred and Edouard were both made to be loved, and they both did their utmost to please Isaure. A heart that has never known love is certain to surrender more easily and to receive more quickly the impressions of that passion. The girl whom the mountaineers and the shepherds had avoided, experienced a novel pleasure with those persons who seemed so happy in her presence; but that pleasure was inevitably attended with risk; and already fits of musing announced the birth of a new sentiment in Isaure’s heart.
Reading was no longer a sufficient distraction for the little goatherd. Still, she had carried a book upon the mountain with her, to occupy her time; but although she opened it and looked at it, she did not read; her distraught eyes sought the road by which the two young men always came to the valley.
"I shall see them to-morrow," she said to herself; "they are not afraid of me! they do not run away at sight of me; they do not think me wicked. Ah! I begin to feel that it is very melancholy to live alone, not to have a single friend with one. And yet, a little while ago I never thought of that; I was perfectly happy. What can it be that I lack now?"
Isaure let her head sink upon her breast; the book was thrown aside. Her mind abandoned itself to a delicious reverie; it is so sweet to dream, when the image of one we love is mingled with all our thoughts! And yet how many people live and die without knowing the most blissful sensations of love!
Suddenly the girl raised her head, put aside with her hand the long fair curls which fell over her great eyes, and turning her head anxiously, looked once more at the White House, with her head bent forward, as if she were listening, waiting, hoping.
But nothing disturbed the absolute calm that reigned all about; and that house, an object of terror to the credulous mountaineers, seemed to be as usual entirely deserted.
At last Isaure ceased to look in that direction; but, having glanced about, as if to make sure that no one could see her, she took from her breast a little locket, put it to her lips, and kissed it fervently; and a tear or two, which glistened in her eyes, fell upon that object upon which she lavished so many manifestations of affection.
After a few minutes she carefully replaced the locket in her breast, wiped her eyes, rose, assembled her goats and walked slowly back to her cottage.
Vaillant came rushing out to jump and fawn upon his mistress.
"My poor Vaillant," said Isaure, passing her hand over the head of her faithful companion, "you are not pleased with me; I am sure of it; I do not play with you as often as I used; I fondle you less; and yet I still love you, you are my faithful companion; but I don’t know what is the matter with me, Vaillant; and sometimes it really seems to me as if I were angry with myself for not being so merry as I used to be."