Seated on the bank near her, his roving eyes full of bold curiosity bent on her from time to time, his idle fingers plaiting a little wreath out of long-stemmed clover and _boutons d’or_, he appeared merely an intrusive, irresponsible young fellow willing to amuse himself with a few moments’ rustic courtship here before he continued on his way. "You are exceedingly pretty," he said. "Will you tell me your name in exchange for mine?" "Maryette Courtray." "Oh," he exclaimed in quick recognition; "you are bell-mistress in Sainte Lesse, then! _You_ are the celebrated carillonnette! I have heard about you. I suspected that you might be the little mistress of Sainte Lesse bells, because you wear the Legion--" He nodded his handsome head toward the decoration on her blouse. "And to think," he added effusively, "that it is just a mere slip of a girl who was decorated for bravery by France!" She smiled at him with all the beguilingly _bête_ innocence of the young when flattered: "You are too amiable, monsieur. I really do not understand why they gave me the Legion. To encourage all French children, perhaps--because I really am a dreadful coward." She tapped the holster on her thigh and gazed at him quite guilelessly out of wide and trustful eyes. "You see? I dare not even come here to wash my clothes unless I carry this--in case some Boche comes prowling." "Whose pistol is it?" he asked. "The weapon belongs to Monsieur Steek. When I come to wash here I borrow it." "Are you the sweetheart of Monsieur Steek?" he inquired, mimicking her pronunciation of "Stick," and at the same time fixing his dark eyes boldly and expressively on hers. "Does a young girl of my age have sweethearts?" she demanded scornfully. "If she hasn’t had one, it’s time," he returned, staring hard at her with a persistent and fixed smile that had become almost offensive. "Oh, la!" she exclaimed with a shrug of her youthful shoulders. "Perhaps you think I have time for such foolishness--what with housework to do and washing, and caring for my father, and my duties in the belfry every day!" "Youth passes swiftly, belle Maryette." "Imitate him, beau monsieur, and swiftly pass your way!" "_L’amour est doux, petite Marie!_" "_Je m’en moque!_" He rose, smiling confidently, dropped on his knees beside her, and rolled back his cuffs. "Come," he said, "I’ll help you wash. We two should finish quickly." "I am in no haste." "But it will give you an hour’s leisure, belle Maryette." "Why should I wish for leisure, beau monsieur?" "I shall try to instruct you why, when we have our hour together." "Do you mean to pay court to me?" "I am doing that now. My ardent courtship will already be accomplished, so that we need not waste our hour together!" He began to laugh and wring out the linen. "Monsieur," she expostulated smilingly, "your apropos disturbs me. Have you the assurance to believe that you already appeal to my heart?" "Have I not appealed to it a little, Maryette?"