‘Get away with you, Alexander! get away!’ she cried. ‘What a tiresome creature he is! The idea of his perching himself on me---- You are too rough, sir, and you scratch me with your claws. Do you hear me? I don’t want you to go away, but you must be good, and mustn’t peck at my hair.’ Then she troubled herself no further about him. The cock still maintained his position, every now and then glancing inquisitively at the girl’s chin with his gleaming eye. The other birds all began to cluster round her. After rolling amongst the straw, she was now lying lazily on her back with her arms stretched out. ‘Ah! how pleasant it is,’ she said; ‘but then it makes me feel so sleepy. Straw always makes one drowsy, doesn’t it? Serge doesn’t like it. Perhaps you don’t either. What do you like? Tell me, so that I may know.’ She was gradually dozing off. For a moment she opened her eyes widely, as though she were looking for something, and then her eyelids fell with a tranquil smile of content. She seemed to be asleep, but after a few minutes she opened her eyes again, and said: ‘The cow is going to have a calf---- That will be so nice, and will please me more than anything.’ Then she sank into deep slumber. The fowls had ended by perching on her body; she was buried beneath a wave of living plumage. Hens were brooding over her feet; geese stretched their soft downy necks over her legs. The pig lay against her left side, while on the right, the goat poked its bearded head under her arm. The pigeons were roosting and nestling all over her, on her hands, her waist, and her shoulders. And there she lay asleep, in all her rosy freshness, caressed by the cow’s warm breath, while the big cock still squatted just below her bosom with gleaming comb and quivering wings. Outside, the rain was falling less heavily. A sunbeam, escaping from beneath a cloud, gilded the fine drops of water. Albine, who had remained perfectly still, watched the slumber of Desirée, that big, plump girl who found her great delight in rolling about in the straw. She wished that she, too, could slumber away so peacefully, and feel such pleasure, because a few straws had tickled her neck. And she felt jealous of those strong arms, that firm bosom, all that vitality, all that purely animal development which made the other like a tranquil easy-minded sister of the big red and white cow. However, the rain had now quite ceased. The three cats of the parsonage filed out into the yard one after the other, keeping close to the wall, and taking the greatest precautions to avoid wetting their paws. They peeped into the stable, and then stalked up to the sleeping girl, and lay down, purring, close by her. Moumou, the big black cat, curled itself up close to her cheek, and gently licked her chin. ‘And Serge?’ murmured Albine, quite mechanically.