The next morning, though we did not like to admit it, we felt a little less cocky--and we sat and thought of this precious plan of attacking a place by running away from it, and as the sun rose higher in the heavens, our respect for ourselves sank lower, till by nightfall we were watching each other like two cats, though we still kept up a show of indifference. In the back of our minds was the notion of stealing off alone to the village, but neither of us dared to take his eye off the other for a second. Each tried all sorts of unsuccessful dodges to get rid of the other man, but finally we lay down on our straw mattresses, pretending to fall asleep and snore loudly, though love and fleas chased rest from our eyelids. At last Pinon could bear it no longer, and jumped up, declaring that he was going back. “All right then,” said I, “I’m with you!” It took us a whole day to walk home; but we got there about sunset, and hid in the woods till dark, as we were not particularly anxious for any one to see us,--it would have been rather awkward, and then we wanted to surprise Belette;--we pictured her in tears, reproaching herself, sighing for her lost lover;--which one?--but you can guess what answer each of us gave to that question. Our hearts beat fast as we stole down to the end of her garden; the moonlight shone full on the cottage, and what do you think I saw hanging on an apple-tree just outside of her open window? Not an apple, no, it was a hat belonging to Giffard, the miller! There is no need to dwell on what followed, though of course every one but ourselves would have thought it killingly funny. I stayed where I was, but Quiriace made one jump, swung himself up the tree, ran along the branch, and leaped in at the window. In a moment the air was rent with screams, curses, yells, and vituperations, noise of breaking furniture, smashed china and glass, groans, blows, shrieks, and growls, as if a cage full of wild beasts were fighting. As you may imagine, the row soon woke up the entire neighborhood; I did not wait to see the end of it, but made off as fast as I could, half laughing,--for it was funny when you came to think of it,--but with the tears running down my cheeks all the same. “You are well out of that, Colas my boy,” said I to myself, but in my heart I was not so sure of it. I tried to laugh at all the row-de-dow, and mimic the girl, Quiriace, and the miller. “But oh! Belette,” cried I, “this will break my heart!” I didn’t really know if I was glad or sorry, but on the whole I came near to regretting my escape; for if I had married her, and she had betrayed me? At least she would have been mine, and love is well worth any price you must pay for it.