She started as if she were doing some evil thing, and stretched her arms
out, and looked around with blinded, wondering eyes, as if she had been
rudely wakened from her sleep.

"What are you doing up so late?" asked Jeannot; he was coming from the
forest in the dead of night to bring food for his family; he lost his
sleep thus often, but he never thought that he did anything except his
duty in those long, dark, tiring tramps to and fro between Soignies and
Laeken.

Bébée shut her book and smiled with dreaming eyes, that saw him not at
all.

"I was reading--and, Jeannot, his name is Flamen for the world, but I may
call him Victor."

"What do I care for his name?"

"You asked it this morning."

"More fool I. Why do you read? Reading is not for poor folk like you and
me."

Bébée smiled up at the white clear moon that sailed above the woods.

She was not awake out of her dream. She
only dimly heard the words he spoke.

"You are a little peasant," said Jeannot roughly, as he paused at the