58 THE BIRTH OF PICCIOLA. 



The fine weather came, and the plant took off 

 her winter mantle to put on her spring garment of 

 green, and her new branches were without these 

 silky coverings, henceforth useless. 



" But if the storm rage, the wind will break you, 

 and the hail will tear your leaves, too tender to 

 resist." 



The wind blew, and the young plant, too weak 

 to resist, bent to the earth, defending itself by 

 yielding. The hail came, and by a new manoeuvre, 

 the leaves, ranging themselves along the stem and 

 pressing one against the other for mutual protec- 

 tion, offered their solid ribs to the weight of the 

 missiles. Union gave them strength, and this time, 

 as before, the plant came out of the combat, not 

 without some light wounds, but living, strong, and 

 ready to expand under the rays of the sun, which 

 was already healing its injuries. 



"Is chance, then, intelligent?" cried De Charney. 

 " Must we spiritualize matter or materialize spirit ? " 

 And he did not cease to interrogate his mute in- 

 terlocutor. He loved to see her grow, to follow 

 her in her gradual changes. 



One day, after he had long contemplated her, he 

 fell into a reverie by her side, and his thoughts had 

 an unusual sweetness. Walking up and down the 



