The young women took their seats in the stage; there were no other passengers except two old peasants, at whom they made faces all the way, because they detected an unpleasant odor about them. At last they arrived at Montfermeil, and, Virginie having inquired where Denise lived, they were directed to the path where the girl discovered them. "My dear love," said Cézarine, "I don't thee the ruthtic roof that thelterth your young friend, and I am beginning to be doothid hungry." "Wait, it must be close by." "What a lovely morning! If that ungrateful Théodore had only come with uth!" "Yes, to eat up your hundred and fifteen sous in one meal! Dieu! what a fool you are to go wild like this over a man who ruins you! Let's go on a little farther." "My dear, it'th too much for me; it'th no uthe for me to thay: 'I mutht forget him!'" "I'll sing it for you, if you want; perhaps that will have more effect on you." "Ah! he hath thuch lovely whithkerth. It wath hith whithkerth that fathinated me firtht." "You ought to have had them made into a cravat." "You're alwayth joking. How lucky you are, Virginie! you don't know what a violent pathion ith." "The deuce I don't! I've had more of 'em than you have!--Oh! see that pretty little house, and the farm--That must certainly be the place." "I don't believe your village girl livth in thuch a nithe houthe." "Why not, pray? If you had seen the plump chickens she brought Auguste, you wouldn't be surprised." The appearance of Denise put an end to their uncertainty. The girl ran to meet Virginie, kissed her, and made a respectful curtsy to Cézarine, who cried: "What! ith thith your young village girl? How pretty she ith! The deuthe! what a pretty fathe! Ah! I'm very glad now that Théodore didn't come!" Virginie trod on Cézarine's foot, as a hint to her to be quiet, and said to Denise: "I haven't forgotten you, you see, my dear; I have come to see you without ceremony, and brought my cousin with me. We don't put you out of the way, do we?" "Oh, no, madame! on the contrary, I am very glad. It's very kind of you to come. My aunt will be delighted to see you--and madame too." "Will you let me kith you, my child?" said Cézarine. "Yes, madame, with pleasure. But come--come into the house. You may not have dined yet?" "Well, hardly, my dear; all I've had ith a little piece of thauthage when I got up." "Yes," said Virginie, treading on Cézarine's foot again, "my cousin and I have begun to realize that fresh air sharpens the appetite. But we're going to the inn----" "Oh! I hope that you'll stay with us, madame. It would be very unkind of you to refuse." "Dieu! how pretty the ith! the hath Théodore's nothe." "We accept, my dear Denise, so long as it won't put you out. Besides, the merest trifles from people one likes always give more pleasure--than the dainty dishes one mightn't find somewhere else----" Denise's only reply was to run ahead to tell her aunt, and Virginie said to her friend: