“You can tell the man who is mending the road up there that you are taking him along, and ask him to speak to your people.” “That is very true, Marie; you don’t forget anything. It never occurred to me that Jeannie must be there.” “He lives close to the farm, and he will not fail to do your errand.” When they had taken this precaution, Germain put the mare to a trot, and Petit-Pierre was so overjoyed that for a time he forgot that he had gone without his dinner; but the motion of the horse gave him a hollow feeling in his stomach, and at the end of a league, he began to gape and grow pale, and confessed that he was dying of hunger. “This is the way it begins,” exclaimed Germain. “I was quite sure that we should not go far without this young gentleman crying with hunger or thirst.” “I am thirsty, too!” said Petit-Pierre. “Very well, then, let’s go to Mother Rebec’s tavern at Corlay, the sign of ‘The Dawn’--a pretty sign, but a poor lodging. You will take something to drink, too, will you not, Marie?” “No, no; I don’t want anything. I will hold the mare while you go in with the child.” “But I remember, my good girl, that this morning you gave the bread from your own breakfast to my Pierre. You have had nothing to eat. You would not take dinner with us at home; you would do nothing but cry.” “Oh, I was not hungry; I felt too sad, and I give you my word that even now I have no desire to eat.” “You must oblige yourself to eat, little girl, else you will fall sick. We have a long way to go, and it will not do to arrive half-starved and beg for bread before we say how d’ ye do. I shall set you a good example myself, although I am not very hungry: and I am sure that I can, for, after all, I did not eat any dinner. I saw you crying, you and your mother, and it made me feel sad. Come along. I am going to tie the gray at the door. Get down; I wish you to.” All three entered the inn, and in less than fifteen minutes the fat, lame hostess was able to place before them a nice-looking omelette, some brown bread, and a bottle of light wine. Peasants do not eat quickly, and little Pierre had such a good appetite that a whole hour passed before Germain could think of starting out again. At first little Marie ate in order to be obliging; then little by little she grew hungry. For, at sixteen, a girl cannot fast for long, and country air is dictatorial.