“My blessed Amélie!” said he with emotion, pressing her finger to his lips, “never since my mother combed my boyish locks has a woman's hand touched my hair until now.”
Leaning her head fondly against the shoulder of Pierre, she bade him repeat to her again, to her who had not forgotten one word or syllable of the tale he had told her before, the story of his love.
She listened with moistened eyelids and heaving bosom as he told her again of his faithfulness in the past, his joys in the present, and his hopes in the future. She feared to look up lest she should break the charm, but when he had ended she turned to him passionately and kissed his lips and his hands, murmuring, “Thanks, my Pierre, I will be a true and loving wife to you!”
He strained her to his bosom, and held her fast, as if fearful to let her go.
“Her image at that last embrace,
Ah! little thought he 'twas the last!”
Dim twilight crept into the valley. It was time to return home. Pierre and Amélie, full of joy in each other, grateful for the happiest day in their lives, hopeful of to-morrow and many to-morrows after it, and mercifully blinded to what was really before them, rose from their seat under the great spreading elm. They slowly retraced the path through the meadow leading to the bridge, and reëntered the highway which ran to the city, where Pierre conducted Amélie home.
CHAPTER XLIX. THE MARKET-PLACE ON ST. MARTIN'S DAY.
The market-place then as now occupied the open square lying between the great Cathedral of Ste. Marie and the College of the Jesuits. The latter, a vast edifice, occupied one side of the square. Through its wide portal a glimpse was had of the gardens and broad avenues of ancient trees, sacred to the meditation and quiet exercises of the reverend fathers, who walked about in pairs, according to the rule of their order, which rarely permitted them to go singly.
The market-place itself was lively this morning with the number of carts and stalls ranged on either side of the bright little rivulet which ran under the old elms that intersected the square, the trees affording shade and the rivulet drink for man and beast.