"Well, well! what on earth's the matter with you, my dear? On my word! she's really crying! Mon Dieu! is she going to faint?--Bring me something, Bertrand!--The idea of being unhappy just for a man, my dear girl! God bless me! they ain't worth the trouble! If you knew 'em as well as I do! I admit that Monsieur Auguste wasn't very polite, to hardly answer you and not even thank you!--Ah! her color's coming back a little.--It really scared me to see you like that!" Denise took out her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and called Coco. "Come, my dear, let's go," she said; "we must go back to the village." "Ain't my kind friend coming with us?" said Coco, as he took Denise's hand. "Oh, no! he hasn't even time to speak to us. Come, Coco, let's go. We must be at the stage office at four." "I'll show you the way, my dear," said Virginie; "you might lose yourself in Paris." "I was going to offer you my arm, mamzelle," said Bertrand. "No, thanks, Monsieur Bertrand, don't put yourself out; it isn't necessary." "Why not, Mamzelle Denise?" "We'll find the way all right. As for Monsieur Auguste, tell him we won't trouble him any more." "You're wrong to be put out with him, Mamzelle Denise; if somebody hadn't been waiting for him----" "Yes, to be sure," said Virginie, "it was very polite of him: to not so much as thank this pretty child for her present! magnificent chickens, fine pears, and fresh eggs! Fresh eggs are so good! Will you allow me to put three in my bag for my breakfast to-morrow?" "As many as you please, madame," said Denise; "for I see very clearly that Monsieur Auguste cares very little indeed for what we took so much pleasure in bringing him." "I tell you, my dear, that men ain't worth a pirouette," said Virginie, putting four eggs into her reticule; then she followed Denise, who left the room with the child, refusing Bertrand's escort. Madame Saint-Edmond was coming upstairs with a young man at the moment that Denise, with a heavy heart and red eyes, left Dalville's apartment, leading Coco by the hand. Léonie was furiously angry with Auguste since he had left her in a swoon on the landing, to go in search of Bertrand. Having abandoned the hope of renewing her relations with him, she seized every opportunity to annoy him. That is the way in which a woman who has never loved always takes her revenge. When she saw the peasant girl coming from Dalville's apartment, Madame Saint-Edmond stopped, looked at her with a sneer, and said to her companion: "Ah! rather a queer rig; but she has come here to be educated, no doubt." "What's that, what does she say?" cried Virginie, who was following Denise, and had overheard Léonie's last words; but the latter hurried upstairs. "I don't know," said Denise; "I never saw the lady before, so she couldn't have been speaking to me."