Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/295

dark, but as though guided by a common instinct, it happened during this search that their hands, groping in the same spot, met ten times a minute. And, as they were both equally awkward, they did not find the key.

“The moon, which is hidden just now by the clouds, shines right into the room,” said Jacques. Let us wait a bit; by-and-by it will light up the room, and may help us.”

And, pending the appearance of the moon, they began to talk. A conversation in the dark, in a little room, on a spring night; a conversation which, at the outset trifling and unimportant, gradually enters on the chapter of personal confidences. You know what that leads to. Language by degrees grows confused, full of reticences; voices are lowered; words alternate with sighs. Hands meeting complete the thought which from the heart ascends to the lips, and— Seek the conclusion in your recollection, young couples. Do you remember, young man; do you remember, young lady, you who now walk hand-in-hand, and who, up to two days back, had never seen one another?

At length the moon broke through the clouds, and her bright light flooded the room. Mademoiselle Francine awoke from her reverie uttering a faint cry.

“What is the matter?” asked Jacques, putting his arm round her waist.

“Nothing,” murmured Francine. “I thought I heard someone knock.”

And, without Jacques noticing it, she pushed the key that she had just noticed under some of the furniture.

She did not want to find it now.

**********

First Reader: I certainly will not let my daughter read this story.

Second Reader: Up till now I have not caught a glimpse