"Au revoir: amuse yourselves well, my children." Madame Chevillon stood, one hand on fat hip, the other shading old eyes that they might watch the progress of the cart up the blinding whiteness of the village street.
"To the forest, and yet again to the forest and to the forest always," she said, turning into the darkened billiard room. "Marie, beware, thou, of the forest. The good God created it express for the lovers,--but it is permitted to the devil to promenade himself there also."
"Those two there," said Marie--"it is very certain that they are in love?"
"How otherwise?" said Madame. "The good God made us women that the men should be in love with us--and afterwards, to take care of the children. There is no other use that a man has for a woman. Friendship? The Art?--Bah! When a man wants those he demands them of a man. Of a woman he demands but love, and one gives it to him--one gives it to him without question!"
The two who had departed for the forest drove on through the swimming, spinning heat, in silence.
It was not till they reached the little old well by Marlotte that Betty spoke.
"Don't let's work to-day, Mr. Temple," she said. "My hands are so hot I could never hold a brush. And your sketch is really finished, you know."
"What would you like to do?" asked Temple: "river?"
"Oh, no,--not now that we've started for the forest! Its feelings would be hurt if we turned back. I am sure it loves us to love it, although it is so big--Like God, you know."
"Yes: I'm sure it does. Do you really think God cares?"
"Of course," said Betty, "because everything would be so silly if He didn't, you know. I believe He likes us to love him, and what's more, I believe He likes us to love all the pretty things He's made--trees and rivers and sunsets and seas."
"And each other," said Temple, and flushed to the ears: "human beings, I mean, of course," he added hastily.
"Of course," said Betty, unconscious of the flush; "but religion tells you that--it doesn't tell you about the little things. It does say about herbs of the field and the floods clapping their hands and all that--but that's only His works praising Him, not us loving all His works. I think He's most awfully pleased when we love some little, nice, tiny thing that He never thought we'd notice."