"Why, because it is possible that it does not amuse her very much."
Miette began to laugh. Monsieur Roger had guessed aright.
"Oh, stay like that!" cried Paul, seeing Miette's face lighten up with gayety.
"I will remain like this on one condition."
"And what is that?"
"That our friend Roger will remain also with us. I shall have some one to whom I can talk, and you, Paul, will make your sketch at your ease."
"That is understood," said Monsieur Roger, seating himself upon a bank of stones beside the children. At first he lent a rather listless ear to Miette's words, for he was thinking of something else, and he only uttered a word or two in answer, which, however, allowed the little girl to think that she was being listened to. His eyes had travelled from the model to the artist. Since his arrival at Sainte-Gemme Paul's face had slightly changed: his hair, which had been cut short at school, had lengthened, and now fell over his forehead, shading the top of his face and giving him an expression that was slightly feminine; his large eyes, with long, black lashes, went from Miette to the sketch-book with a grave attention which the presence of a third party did not trouble at all. Roger's looks had rested upon Paul, full of that sympathy which the boy had inspired in him the first time he had seen him; but, instead of looking elsewhere at the end of a few minutes, his eyes were riveted upon Paul's face. He eagerly examined every feature of that face, which had suddenly been revealed to him under a new aspect. He had become very pale, and his hands trembled slightly. Miette perceived this sudden change, and, full of uneasiness, cried out,—
"Why, what is the matter?"
Recalled to himself by this exclamation, Monsieur Roger shook his head, passed his hand over his eyes, and answered, striving to smile,—
"Why, there is nothing the matter with me, my dear, except a slight dizziness, caused by the sun no doubt. Don't be uneasy about me. I am going back home."