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g walls and transforming the atmosphere into a gauzy veil； calling up rich contrasts of light and fantastic shadow； when the sky is blue and earth quivers in the heat； and the bells are pealing； then you shall see one of the eloquent fairy scenes which stamp themselves for ever on the imagination； a scene that shall find as fanatical worshipers as the wondrous views of Naples and Byzantium or the isles of Florida。 Nothing is wanting to complete the harmony； the murmur of the world of men and the idyllic quiet of solitude； the voices of a million human creatures and the voice of God。 There lies a whole capital beneath the peaceful cypresses of Pere…Lachaise。
The landscape lay in all its beauty； sparkling in the spring sunlight； as I stood looking out over it one morning； my back against a huge elm…tree that flung its yellow flowers to the wind。 At the sight of the rich and glorious view before me； I thought bitterly of the scorn with which even in our literature we affect to hold this land of ours； and poured maledictions on the pitiable plutocrats who fall out of love with fair France； and spend their gold to acquire the right of sneering at their own country； by going through Italy at a gallop and inspecting that desecrated land through an opera…glass。 I cast loving eyes on modern Paris。 I was beginning to dream dreams； when the sound of a kiss disturbed the solitude and put philosophy to flight。 Down the sidewalk； along the steep bank； above the rippling water； I saw beyond the Ponte des Gobelins the figure of a woman； dressed with the daintiest simplicity； she was still young； as it seemed to me； and the blithe gladness of the landscape was reflected in her sweet face。 Her companion； a handsome young man； had just set down a little boy。 A prettier child has never been seen； and to this day I do not know whether it was the little one or his mother who received the kiss。 In their young faces； in their eyes； their smile； their every movement； you could read the same deep and tender thought。 Their arms were interlaced with such glad swiftness； they drew close together with such marvelous unanimity of impulse that； conscious of nothing but themselves； they did not so much as see me。 A second child； howevera little girl； who had turned her back upon them in sullen discontent threw me a glance； and the expression in her eyes startled me。 She was as pretty and engaging as the little brother whom she left to run about by himself； sometimes before； sometimes after their mother and her companion； but her charm was less childish； and now； as she stood mute and motionless； her attitude and demeanor suggested a torpid snake。 There was something indescribably mechanical in the way in which the pretty woman and her companion paced up and down。 In absence of mind； probably； they were content to walk to and fro between the little bridge and a carriage that stood waiting nearby at a corner in the boulevard； turning； stopping short now and again； looking into each other's eyes； or breaking into laughter as their casual talk grew lively or languid； grave or gay。
I watched this delicious picture a while from my hiding…place by the great elm…tree； and should have turned away no doubt and respected their privacy； if it had not been for a chance discovery。 In the face of the brooding； silent； elder child I saw traces of thought overdeep for her age。 When her mother and the young man at her side turned and came near； her head was frequently lowered； the furtive sidelong glances of intelligence that she gave the pair and the child her brother were nothing less than extraordinary。 Sometimes the pretty woman or her friend would stroke the little boy's fair curls； or lay a caressing finger against the baby throat or the white collar as he played at keeping step with them； and no words can describe the shrewd subtlety； the ingenuous malice； the fierce intensity which lighted up that pallid little face with the faint circles already round the eyes。 Truly there was a man's power of passion in the strange…looking； delicate little girl。 Here were traces of suffering or of thought in her； and which is the more certain token of death when life is in blossomphysical suffering； or the malady of too early thought preying upon a soul as yet in bud？ Perhaps a mother knows。 For my own part； I know of nothing more dreadful to see than an old man's thoughts on a child's forehead； even blasphemy from girlish lips is less monstrous。
The almost stupid stolidity of this child who had begun to think already； her rare gestures； everything about her； interested me。 I scrutinized her curiously。 Then the common whim of the observer drew me to compare her with her brother； and to note their likeness and unlikeness。
Her brown hair and dark eyes and look of precocious power made a rich contrast with the little one's fair curled head and sea…green eyes and winning helplessness。 She； perhaps； was seven or eight years of age； the boy was full four years younger。 Both children were dressed alike； but here again； looking closely； I noticed a difference。 It was very slight； a little thing enough； but in the light of after events I saw that it meant a whole romance in the past； a whole tragedy to come。 The little brown…haired maid wore a linen collar with a plain hem； her brother's was edged with dainty embroidery； that was all； but therein lay the confession of a heart's secret； a tacit preference which a child can read in the mother's inmost soul as clearly as if the spirit of God revealed it。 The fair…haired child； careless and glad； looked almost like a girl； his skin was so fair and fresh； his movements so graceful； his look so sweet； while his older sister； in spite of her energy； in spite of the beauty of her features and her dazzling complexion； looked like a sickly little boy。 In her bright eyes there was none of the humid softness which lends such charm to children's faces； they seemed； like courtiers' eyes； to be dried by some inner fire； and in her pallor there was a certain swarthy olive tint； the sign of vigorous character。 Twice her little brother came to her； holding out a tiny hunting…horn with a touching charm； a winning look； and wistful expression； which would have sent Charlet into ecstasies； but she only scowled in answer to his 〃Here； Helene； will you take it？〃 so persuasively spoken。 The little girl； so sombre and vehement beneath her apparent indifference； shuddered； and even flushed red when her brother came near her； but the little one seemed not to notice his sister's dark mood； and his unconsciousness； blended with earnestness； marked a final difference in character between the child and the little girl； whose brow was overclouded already by the gloom of a man's knowledge and cares。
〃Mamma； Helene will not play；〃 cried the little one； seizing an opportunity to complain while the two stood silent on the Ponte des Gobelins。
〃Let her alone； Charles； you know very well that she is always cross。〃
Tears sprang to Helene's eyes at the words so thoughtlessly uttered by her mother as she turned abruptly to the young man by her side。 The child devoured the speech in silence； but she gave her brother one of those sagacious looks that seemed inexplicable to me； glancing with a sinister expression from the bank where he stood to the Bievre； then at the bridge and the view； and then at me。
I as afraid lest my presence should disturb the happy couple； I slipped away and took refuge behind a thicket of elder trees； which completely screened me from all eyes。 Sitting quietly on the summit of the bank； I watched the ever…changing landscape and the fierce…looking little girl； for with my head almost on a level with the boulevard I could still see her through the leaves。 Helene seemed uneasy over my disappearance； her dark eyes looked for me down the alley and behind the trees with indefinable curiosity。 What was I to her？ Then Charles' baby laughter rang out like a bird's song in the silence。 The tall； young man； with the same fair hair； was dancing him in his arms； showering kisses upon him； and the meaningless baby words of that 〃little language〃 which rises to our lips when we play with children。 The mother looked on smiling； now and then； doubtless； putting in some low word that came up from the heart； for her companion would stop short in his full happiness； and the blue eyes that turned towards her were full of glowing light and love and worship。 Their voices； blending with the child's voice； reached me with a vague sense of a caress。 The three figures； charming in themselves； composed a lovely scene in a glorious landscape； filling it with a pervasive unimaginable grace。 A delicately fair woman； radiant with smiles； a child of love； a young man with the irresistible charm of youth； a cloudless sky； nothing was wanting in nature to complete a perfect harmony for the delight of the soul。 I found myself smiling as if their happiness had been my own。
The clocks struck nine。 The young man gave a tender embrace to his companion； and went towards the tilbury which an old servant drove slowly to meet him。 The lady had grown grave and almost sad。 The child's prattle sounded unchecked through the last farewell kisses。 Then the tilbury rolled away； and the lady stoo