Germain’s future father-in-law came forward to meet him, and having plied him, for five minutes, with questions concerning his entire family, he added that conventional phrase with which one passer-by addresses another concerning the object of his journey: “So you are taking a little trip in this part of the country?” “I have come to see you,” replied the husbandman, “to give you this little present of game with my father’s compliments, and to tell you from him that you ought to know with what intentions I come to your house.” “Oh, ho!” said Father Leonard, laughing and tapping his capacious stomach, “I see, I understand, I am with you, and,” he added with a wink, “you will not be the only one to pay your court, young man. There are three already in the house dancing attendance like you. I never turn anybody away, and I should find it hard to say yes or no to any of them, for they are all good matches. Yet, on account of Father Maurice and for the sake of the rich fields you till, I hope that it may be you. But my daughter is of age and mistress of her own affairs. She will do as she likes. Go in and introduce yourself. I hope that you will draw the prize.” “I beg your pardon,” answered Germain, amazed to find himself an extra when he had counted on being alone in the field. “I was not aware that your daughter was supplied already with suitors, and I did not come to quarrel over her.” “If you supposed that because you were slow in coming, my daughter would be left unprovided for, you were greatly mistaken, my son,” replied Father Leonard with unshaken good humor. “Catherine has the wherewithal to attract suitors, and her only difficulty lies in choosing. But come in; don’t lose heart. The woman is worth a struggle.” And pushing in Germain by the shoulders with boisterous gaiety, he called to his daughter as they entered the house: “So, Catherine, here is another!” This cordial but unmannerly method of introduction to the widow, in the presence of her other devotees, completed Germain’s distress and embarrassment. He felt the awkwardness of his position, and stood for a few moments without daring to look upon the beauty and her court. The Widow Guérin had a good figure and did not lack freshness, but her expression and her dress displeased Germain the instant he saw her. She had a bold, self-satisfied look, and her cap, edged with three lace flounces, her silk apron, and her fichu of fine black lace were little in accord with the staid and sober widow he had pictured to himself. Her elaborate dress and forward manners inclined Germain to judge the widow old and ugly, although she was certainly not either. He thought that such finery and playful manners might well suit little Marie’s years and wit, but that the widow’s fun was labored and over bold, and that she wore her fine clothes in bad taste.