"I am going to The Borderettes to take a message to Lavenue," answered Bijou; and then, seeing Giraud, she said pleasantly: "Good morning. I shall see you again, then, soon?" Patatras was waiting in the shade. The old coachman, who always accompanied Bijou, helped her into her saddle, and then, mounting in his turn, prepared to follow her. When Pierrot saw this, he called out again: "How is it that none of the cousins are riding with you?" "I did not tell them that I was going out." "Ah!" he exclaimed regretfully, "if I were only free, wouldn't I come with you!" She turned round in her saddle, with an easy movement which showed that she was not laced in at all, and answered Pierrot, with a merry laugh: "I should not have told you though, either!" As soon as Bijou had passed through the gateway, she put Patatras to a gallop, for the flies were teasing him dreadfully. She went along through the hot air, meeting the sun, the burning rays of which fell full on her pretty face without making it red. She did not slacken her pace until she arrived at the narrow lane leading to The Borderettes. It was almost perpendicular, and covered with loose stones, and at the bottom of the little valley, which was very green, in spite of the dry season, the farm, with its white walls and red roof, looked like a perfectly new toy-house. When she was at the bottom of the hill, Bijou pulled out of her pocket a little looking-glass, and then arranged her veil and the loose curly locks of hair, which had blown over her ears and the back of her neck. She then gathered from the hedge a spray of mulberry blossom, which she fastened in the bodice of her habit, arranged the little handkerchief, trimmed with Valenciennes, daintily in her side-pocket, and then, after another short gallop, pulled up at the entrance to the farm. A rough voice called out: "Are you there, master?" and then a young farm labourer came out of the house, saying: "Master ain't heard me call; I'll go and find him." A minute or two later, a tall young man, of some thirty-five years of age, appeared. He was a true type of the Norman peasant, somewhat meagre-looking, with fair hair, and a slight stoop. He looked very warm and was out of breath. His face was so red that it seemed to be turning purple. "Ah!" he exclaimed, trying to get his breath again, "it's you, Mad'moiselle Denyse, it's you, is it?" "Yes, Monsieur Lavenue," she answered, smiling, "it is." "Won't you get down?" he asked, holding out his hand to help her. "No, thanks! I have only come to bring you a message from grandmamma. It is about the Confirmation dinner next Monday; but you know all about that, as you are the mayor?" "Yes, I know about it!" "Well, grandmamma would like to have some very nice peaches for Monday, and some very nice pears; in fact, all kinds of nice things, such as grow in your orchard."