He found himself looking forward to the next day with pleasure. The bright face and the expressive eyes seemed to draw him back towards St. Ouen. He could not get them out of his mind. The knowledge of their proximity gave the whole neighborhood a new life and charm. He no longer wished to hasten from that neighborhood. Paris no longer lured him as with irresistible seductions. He found it now quite easy to tarry at the very threshold of the city.
"Can it be possible," he thought, "that I am falling in love with this child?"
He knew not that men twice and thrice his age—great men, whose names sounded through the world of philosophy and letters—had asked themselves the same question, regarding the same child.
The next morning, Dick visited one or two small shops in St. Denis, and added to his meagre supply of linen, handkerchiefs, and hosiery. Considering the small stock of money he had left, this was a piece of extravagance, but he counted on immediate employment by Mr. Franklin, on reaching Paris. Such is the confidence of youth.
In the afternoon he hired a boat, this time without a boatman, and rowed alone to the appointed landing-place. As soon as he had made his boat fast, he saw his shepherdess approaching down the terrace, herself carrying the parasol, the footman standing back within hearing distance.
"Good day, Amaryllis!" he called out.
"Good day, Silvius! Follow me to my lodge." She led the way to a rustic open summer-house veiled by a clump of trees, the smaller ones forming a semicircle that enclosed a sunlit, grassy space descending gradually from the summer-house to a row of shrubs that grew along the river.
"This is my lodge," she said, sitting on the bench that ran around the inside of the structure.
Dick sat on the step at the entrance, near her feet, and said, glancing at the clear space before them:
"I see your lodge is situated so that you can sit in it and keep your sheep in sight while they graze."