"Oh, yes! he did look at me a great deal, I assure you." "But you can't think of such a thing as loving Monsieur Dalville, my dear!" "Alas! it isn't my fault--I can't help it." "How did this love come to you, my child?" "When I fell from my donkey, aunt." "Is it possible?" "Mon Dieu! yes. I met Monsieur Auguste on the road; he was in his cabriolet and I was walking behind Jean le Blanc." "You told me that, my child." "He kept looking at me, and I pretended not to notice it. He got out of his carriage and followed me along the narrow path through the wood; he told me I was pretty and I laughed at his compliments." "You told me that, too." "He tried to kiss me, and in defending myself I scratched his face." "You didn't tell me that, my dear." "Oh! I was very angry then! I hated the man! I got on Jean le Blanc so as to get away from him faster, but Jean began to gallop and threw me off. I fell--I don't know how." "Mon Dieu! my child! And then what?" "The gentleman ran up to me; but he lifted me up so respectfully--he seemed so sorry for my fall--he was paler and trembled more than I did. Then, I don't know how it happened, but all of a sudden my anger went away, and--and I believe that I loved him already." "And then?" "Bless me! you know, aunt, that we found what he'd given Coco and his grandmother, and I felt that that made me love him still more. I saw him again at Madame Destival's, and he told me to take care of Coco; and since then, you know, aunt, he hasn't been to see us but once." "Have you told him that you loved him?" "No; on the contrary, as Monsieur Bertrand told me that would keep him from coming to see us, I told him that I should never love him." "You did well, my child." "Oh, no, aunt! I think that I did wrong rather, for he hasn't been here since then, and he went away without bidding us good-bye." "Well, well, now she's crying again! But, my child, what good does this love do you?" "None at all, aunt." "Monsieur Auguste wouldn't have married a poor village girl. Now he's gone away, and we shan't ever see him again probably." "Do you mean to say that he may not come back? Won't he want to see--Coco again? He will come back, aunt; ah! I am still hopeful." "Even if he should, remember that he's a gentleman, and used to fine ladies; while you--Well! what are you looking at that flower so for?" "It told me that Auguste loved me dearly." "Who told you so?" "This marguerite, aunt." "Pluck another one to-morrow, my dear, and it will tell you just the opposite." "Oh! I pluck them every morning, aunt." "And does the flower always tell you he loves you?" "When there's one that doesn't I question another, and I keep on till I find one that gives me the answer I want." "That's the way girls tell their own fortunes. But look you, my child, it would be much more sensible to forget a man who don't give you a thought." "I can't do it, aunt."