"I ain't cross with you any more. You're more decent than I thought; if I'd fallen like that before the village fellows, they'd have laughed to begin with, and then they'd have made a lot of silly talk, and there wouldn't have been any end to it. Instead of that, you picked me right up, and you looked so scared!--I'm sorry now that I scratched you. Come, kiss me, to prove that you forgive me." Auguste made the most of this permission. Denise was so pretty when she smiled! and a woman who defends herself so sturdily makes the favors that she grants seem the more precious. So peace was made between the milkmaid and the young man. But White Jean was no longer there; overjoyed to be rid of his burden, he had kept on through the woods. "Oh! I ain't worried," said Denise; "I'm sure he's gone home. Let's take this path and we shall soon be in the village." They walked on; the milkmaid beside Auguste, who once more considered her a charming creature, since she had smiled upon him and had allowed him to kiss her. In truth, Denise's face was no longer the same; an angry expression is not becoming to a pretty face, and features that are made to inspire love should never express wrath. But they soon emerged from the woods and descended a hill, at the foot of which lay Montfermeil. "There's my village," said Denise; "and look, do you see my ass trotting along down there? Oh! I knew he'd go right home.--Have you got business in the neighborhood?" "No, not exactly. I am going to Monsieur Destival's country place. Do you know it?" "To be sure; I carry milk to them, when Madame Destival stays there in summer. She always tells me to be careful about her little cheeses. You see, I make nice ones. I carried them a bigger one this morning, because Mamzelle Julie, madame's maid, told me they expected company from Paris." "That being so, I probably shall have the pleasure of tasting your cheeses." "But if you're going to Monsieur Destival's, you mustn't go to the village. I'll show you what road you must take." "It will be much kinder of you to go with me and show me the way; as you are not anxious about your ass, there is nothing to hurry you." "Oh, no! monsieur! I see that you're all right, but you're too fond of kissing the girls. Besides, my aunt is waiting for me. It's after noon, and our dinner-time.--Look, monsieur, take that road that goes up the hill yonder, then the first turn to the left, then the grass-grown road, and you'll find yourself at the place where you're going." "I shall never remember all that. You will be responsible for my losing my way." "You shouldn't have left your carriage." "It was your lovely eyes that turned my head." "Ah! you're going to begin again. Go along, quick, or they'll eat the cream cheese without you." "I should be very sorry for that, as it was you who made it." "The road up the hill--then turn to the left--then the grass-grown road. Adieu, monsieur." "One more kiss, Denise."