"I would show it to no one but you, André ... read my letter ... I want to prove that I have confidence in you. And then you will understand how light it makes one's heart to receive such a dear letter, so light that one feels like air. It will make you want to receive such an one yourself." André took the letter without showing the slightest impatience, and without a word of thanks. But as he read, he grew moved, not with jealousy of such love, but with pity for the girl, who was dreaming her dream of happiness between two misfortunes. For he had definitely decided to leave the farmstead and La Vendée. Some tidings, in a measure foreseen, dreaded for some time past, very serious for La Fromentière, had caused him to come to a decision that very afternoon. He had returned home, sorrow stricken, weighing all the pain he was about to cause; and now coming upon this joy, this hope of Rousille's, those eyes that persisted in smiling at life, that flower of the ruined farmstead, the feeling came over him that he must spare the child, at least, that one evening, and not tell her at once all he knew. Having read the letter he slowly folded it, and gave it back to Rousille, who, impatient for an appreciative comment, her whole soul in her eyes, her lips breaking into a smile, asked: "Do you think that father would consent, if you were to marry, and if you spoke for my Jean?" "Would you go to live in the Bocage, Rousille?" "I should have to on account of Mathurin, who would never suffer us near him." She was surprised at the manner in which André looked at her, so gravely and so tenderly. Taking her hand in both of his, her hand which still held the letter, he said: "No, little Rousille, I will not speak for you. But I will shortly do something else, of which I cannot tell you now, and which will avail you. The day I do it, your marriage will be assured, unless father breaks up everything.... And it will not be at the Bocage that you will make your home, but at La Fromentière, in our mother's place--the dear mother with whom we were so happy in the days of our childhood. Put your faith in what I say, and do not worry about Mathurin." Letting go her hand, which fell to her side, he added: "I have an idea that you, at least, will be happy, Rousille." She opened her lips to speak; he made her a sign that he would say no more. All the same Rousille asked hurriedly, seeing him move away: "One thing only, André, tell me only one thing. Promise me that you will always till the ground, for father would be so grieved...." And he answered: "I promise you, I will."