He saw her just as she would be--if he let her alone.

But should he leave her alone?

He cared nothing; only her eyes had such a pretty, frank, innocent
look like a bird's in them, and she had been so brave and bold with him
about those silken stockings; and this little ignorant, dreamful mind of
hers was so like a blush rosebud, which looks so close-shut, and so
sweet-smelling, and so tempting fold within fold, that a child will pull
it open, forgetful that he will spoil it forever from being a full-grown
rose, and that he will let the dust, and the sun, and the bee into its
tender bosom--and men are true children, and women are their rosebuds.

Thinking only of keeping well with this strange and beautiful wayfarer
from that unknown paradise of Rubes' country, Bébée lifted up the
vine-leaves of her basket.

"I took a flower for you to-day, but it is dead. Look; to-morrow, if you
will be there, you shall have the best in all the garden."

"You wish to see me again then?" he asked her. Bébée looked at him with
troubled eyes, but with a sweet frank faith that had no hesitation in it.

"Yes! you are not like anything I ever knew, and if you will only help me
to learn a little. Sometimes I think I am not stupid, only ignorant; but
I cannot be sure unless I try."

He smiled; he was listlessly amused; the day before he had tempted the
child merely because she was pretty, and to tempt her in that way seemed