warmth and sunshine that the only ill-effect she experienced was a little
fatigue. And so, on the day after their arrival--Sunday--Mathieu, glad at
being able to remain with her, insisted that she should rest in bed, and
only rise about noon, in time for dejeuner.

"Why," he repeated, "I can very well attend to the child while you rest.
You have him in your arms from morning till night. And, besides, if you
only knew how pleased I am to be here again with you and the dear little
fellow."

He approached her to kiss her gently, and with a fresh laugh she returned
his kiss. It was quite true: they were both delighted to be back at
Chantebled, which recalled to them such loving memories. That room,
looking towards the far expanse of sky and all the countryside,
renascent, quivering with sap, was gilded with gayety by the early
springtide.

Marianne leant over the cradle which was near her, beside the bed. "The
fact is," said she, "Master Gervais is sound asleep. Just look at him.
You will never have the heart to wake him."

Then both father and mother remained for a moment gazing at their
sleeping child. Marianne had passed her arm round her husband's neck and
was clinging to him, as they laughed delightedly over the cradle in which
the little one slumbered. He was a fine child, pink and white already;
but only a father and mother could thus contemplate their offspring. As
the baby opened his eyes, which were still full of all the mystery whence
he had come, they raised exclamations full of emotion.

"You know, he saw me!"