It was divine love passing like a flaming blast.
But she, though her own eyes were sparkling, laughingly scolded him,
saying: "Hush, hush, you will wake Gervais."
Then they remained there hand in hand, pressing each other's fingers amid
the silence. Evening was coming on, and at last the children, their
village finished, raised cries of rapture at seeing it standing there
among bits of wood, which figured trees. And then the softened glances of
the parents strayed now through the window towards the crops sleeping
beneath the crystalline rime, and now towards their last-born's cradle,
where hope was likewise slumbering.
Again did two long months go by. Gervais had just completed his first
year, and fine weather, setting in early, was hastening the awaking of
the earth. One morning, when Marianne and the children went to join
Mathieu on the plateau, they raised shouts of wonder, so completely had
the sun transformed the expanse in a single week. It was now all green
velvet, a thick endless carpet of sprouting corn, of tender, delicate
emerald hue. Never had such a marvellous crop been seen. And thus, as the
family walked on through the mild, radiant April morning, amid the
country now roused from winter's sleep, and quivering with fresh youth,
they all waxed merry at the sight of that healthfulness, that progressing
fruitfulness, which promised the fulfilment of all their hopes.
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