"I have been once or twice; but it loses a whole day."

"You are afraid of not earning?"

"Yes. Because I am afraid of owing people anything."

"Well, give up this one day, and we will make holiday. The people are
out; they will not know. Come into the forest, and we will dine at a café
in the woods; and we will be as poetic as you like, and I will tell you a
tale of one called Rosalind, who pranked herself in boy's attire, all for
love, in the Ardennes country yonder. Come, it is the very day for the
forest; it will make me a lad again at Meudon, when the lilacs were in
bloom. Poor Paris! Come."

"Do you mean it?"

The color was bright in her face, her heart was dancing, her little feet
felt themselves already on the fresh green turf.

She had no thought that there could be any harm in it. She would have
gone with Jeannot or old Bac.

"Of course I mean it. Come. I was going to Mayence to see the Magi and
Van Dyck's Christ. We will go to Soignies instead, and study green
leaves. I will paint your face by sunlight. It is the best way to paint
you. You belong to the open air. So should Gretchen; or how else should
she have the blue sky in her eyes?"

"But I have only wooden shoes!"