Then Jean, blushing to the tips of his ears, reached in his pocket, and drawing out the little paper bag, handed it to her. She began to eat the little sweet dainties. The two soldiers sat in front of her, moved and delighted. At last she went to do her milking, and when she came back she again gave them some milk. They thought of her all through the week and often spoke of her: The following Sunday she sat beside them for a longer time. The three of them sat there, side by side, their eyes looking far away in the distance, their hands clasped over their knees, and they told each other little incidents and little details of the villages where they were born, while the cow, waiting to be milked, stretched her heavy head toward the girl and mooed. Soon the girl consented to eat with them and to take a sip of wine. Often she brought them plums pocket for plums were now ripe. Her presence enlivened the little Breton soldiers, who chattered away like two birds. One Tuesday something unusual happened to Luc Le Ganidec; he asked for leave and did not return until ten o'clock at night. Jean, worried and racked his brain to account for his friend's having obtained leave. The following Friday, Luc borrowed ten sous from one of his friends, and once more asked and obtained leave for several hours. When he started out with Jean on Sunday he seemed queer, disturbed, changed. Kerderen did not understand; he vaguely suspected something, but he could not guess what it might be. They went straight to the usual place, and lunched slowly. Neither was hungry. Soon the girl appeared. They watched her approach as they always did. When she was near, Luc arose and went towards her. She placed her pail on the ground and kissed him. She kissed him passionately, throwing her arms around his neck, without paying attention to Jean, without even noticing that he was there. Poor Jean was dazed, so dazed that he could not understand. His mind was upset and his heart broken, without his even realizing why. Then the girl sat down beside Luc, and they started to chat. Jean was not looking at them. He understood now why his friend had gone out twice during the week. He felt the pain and the sting which treachery and deceit leave in their wake. Luc and the girl went together to attend to the cow. Jean followed them with his eyes. He saw them disappear side by side, the red trousers of his friend making a scarlet spot against the white road. It was Luc who sank the stake to which the cow was tethered. The girl stooped down to milk the cow, while he absent-mindedly stroked the animal's glossy neck. Then they left the pail in the grass and disappeared in the woods. Jean could no longer see anything but the wall of leaves through which they had passed. He was unmanned so that he did not have strength to stand. He stayed there, motionless, bewildered and grieving-simple, passionate grief. He wanted to weep, to run away, to hide somewhere, never to see anyone again.