The widow's lovers seemed to him like three rustic clowns. They must have been rich, or she would not have listened to their suits. One of them was more than forty, and was about as stout as Père Léonard; another had but one eye, and drank so much that it made him stupid; the third was young and not a bad-looking fellow; but he attempted to be witty, and said such insane things that one could but pity him. But the widow laughed as if she admired all his idiotic remarks, and therein she gave no proof of good taste. Germain thought at first that she was in love with the young man; but he soon perceived that he was himself the recipient of marked encouragement, and that she wished him to yield more readily to her charms. That was to him a reason for feeling and appearing even colder and more solemn. The hour of Mass arrived, and they left the table to attend in a body. They had to go to Mers, a good half-league away, and Germain was so tired that he would have been glad of an opportunity to take a nap first: but he was not in the habit of being absent from Mass, and he started with the others. The roads were filled with people, and the widow walked proudly along, escorted by her three suitors, taking the arm of one, then of another, bridling up and carrying her head high. She would have been very glad to exhibit the fourth to the passers-by; but it seemed so ridiculous to be paraded thus in company by a petticoat, in everybody's sight, that he kept at a respectful distance, talking with Père Léonard and finding a way to divert his thoughts and occupy his mind so that they did not seem to belong to the party. XIII THE MASTER When they reached the village, the widow stopped to wait for them. She was determined to make her entry with her whole suite; but Germain, refusing to afford her that satisfaction, left Père Léonard, spoke with several people of his acquaintance, and entered the church by another door. The widow was vexed with him. After the Mass, she made her appearance in triumph on the greensward where dancing was in progress, and opened three successive dances with her three lovers. Germain watched her, and concluded that she danced well, but with affectation. "Well!" said Léonard, clapping him on the shoulder, "so you don't ask my daughter to dance? You are altogether too bashful!" "I don't dance since I lost my wife," the ploughman replied. "Oh! but when you're looking for another, mourning's at an end in your heart as well as in your clothes." "That's no argument, Père Léonard; besides, I feel too old, I don't care for dancing any more." "Hark ye," rejoined Léonard, leading him apart, "you took offence when you entered my house, because you found the citadel already surrounded by besiegers, and I see that you're very proud; but that isn't reasonable, my boy. My daughter's used to being courted, especially these last two years since her mourning came to an end, and it isn't her place to make advances to you."