“Yes, to be sure!” exclaimed he, his face turning very red. “Yes, of course; we are engaged!” And, won over by the kindly manners of the lady, he made up his mind to speak out, his fingers still playing with his cap. “You know it’s an old story. When we were quite children, we used to go thieving together. We used to get switched; oh yes, that’s true! I must tell you that the Lacours and the Pichons lived in the same lane, and were next-door neighbors. And so Rosalie and myself were almost brought up together. Then her people died, and her aunt Marguerite took her in. But she, the minx, was already as strong as a demon.” He paused, realizing that he was warming up, and asked hesitatingly: “But perhaps she has told you all this?” “Yes, yes; but go on all the same,” said Hélène, who was greatly amused. “In short,” continued he, “she was awfully strong, though she was no bigger than a tomtit. It was a treat to see her at her work! How she did get through it! One day she gave a slap to a friend of mine—by Jove! such a slap! I had the mark of it on my arm for a week! Yes, that was the way it all came about. All the gossips declared we must marry one another. Besides, we weren’t ten years old before we had agreed on that! And, we have stuck to it, madame, we have stuck to it!” He placed one hand upon his heart, with fingers wide apart. Hélène, however, had now become very grave. The idea of allowing a soldier in her kitchen somewhat worried her. His reverence, no doubt, had given his sanction, but she thought it rather venturesome. There is too much license in the country, where lovers indulge in all sorts of pleasantries. So she gave expression to her apprehensions. When Zephyrin at last gathered her meaning, his first inclination was to laugh, but his awe for Hélène restrained him. “Oh, madame, madame!” said he, “you don’t know her, I can see! I have received slaps enough from her! Of course young men like to laugh! isn’t that so? Sometimes I pinched her, and she would turn round and hit me right on the nose. Her aunt’s advice always was, ‘Look here, my girl, don’t put up with any nonsense!’ His reverence, too, interfered in it, and maybe that had a lot to do with our keeping up sweethearting. We were to have been married after I had drawn for a soldier. But it was all my eye! Things turned out badly. Rosalie declared she would go to service in Paris, to earn a dowry while she was waiting for me. And so, and so—” He swung himself about, dangling his cap, now from one hand now from the other. But still Hélène never said a word, and he at last fancied that she distrusted him. This pained him dreadfully. “You think, perhaps, that I shall deceive her?” he burst out angrily. “Even, too, when I tell you we are betrothed? I shall marry her, as surely as the heaven shines on us. I’m quite ready to pledge my word in writing. Yes, if you like, I’ll write it down for you.”