"They are as beautiful as little angels, and so well brought up that you can't find more lovable children anywhere." "There's Sylvain, he's not over good." "He's very small! he can't be anything but terrible; but he's so bright!" "True, he is bright: and such courage! he isn't a bit afraid of cows or bulls, and if I would permit him, he'd be climbing up on the horses with his older brother." "If I had been in your place, I'd have brought the older one. Your having such a beautiful child would surely make her love you on the spot!" "Yes, if the woman is fond of children; but suppose she doesn't like them?" "Are there women who don't like children?" "Not many, I think; but there are some, and that is what worries me." "Then you don't know this woman at all?" "No more than you do, and I am afraid I shall not know her any better after I have seen her. I am not suspicious. When any one says pleasant words to me, I believe them; but I have had reason to repent more than once, for words are not deeds." "They say she's a fine woman." "Who says so? Père Maurice?" "Yes, your father-in-law." "That's all right; but he doesn't know her, either." "Well, you will soon see her; you will be very careful, and it's to be hoped you won't make any mistake, Germain." "Look you, little Marie, I should be very glad if you would go into the house for a little while before going on to Ormeaux: you're a shrewd girl, you have always shown that you have a keen mind, and you notice everything. If you see anything that makes you think, you can quietly tell me about it." "Oh! no, Germain, I wouldn't do that! I should be too much afraid of being mistaken; and, besides, if a word spoken thoughtlessly should disgust you with this marriage, your people would blame me for it, and I have enough troubles without bringing fresh ones on my poor dear mother's head." As they were talking thus, Grise pricked up her ears and shied, then retraced her steps and approached the hedge, where there was something which had frightened her at first, but which she now began to recognize. Germain looked at the hedge and saw something that he took for a lamb in the ditch, under the branches of an oak still thick and green. "It's a stray lamb," he said, "or a dead one, for it doesn't move. Perhaps some one is looking for it; we must see." "It isn't a lamb," cried little Marie; "it's a child asleep; it's your Petit-Pierre." "Upon my word!" exclaimed Germain, dismounting; "just see the little imp lying there asleep, so far from home, and in a ditch, where a snake might find him!" He raised the child, who opened his eyes and smiled at him, saying, as he threw his arms around his neck: "Little father, you're going to take me with you!" "Oh, yes! still the same song! what were you doing there, naughty Pierre?" "I was waiting for my little father to pass; I was looking out on the road, and I looked so hard I went to sleep."