"If you should take a husband instead of plucking marguerites, your love would soon pass away, I promise you." "No, aunt, I don't want to marry. Leave me at liberty to think of him and to consult the flowers, and I promise you that I won't cry any more." "As you please, my dear Denise; and if that's your taste, stay unmarried. But you're so pretty, and such a figure. Ah! it would be a great pity if you should pass your youth consulting flowers." The worthy aunt said no more to Denise on the subject of marriage, and the suitors were dismissed. The villagers indulged in various conjectures concerning the girl's conduct. The young women laughed at the gallants who had been rejected; the gallants hoped that in time Denise would be less cruel. But time passed and Denise's determination did not waver. Mère Fourcy became infirm and her niece waited upon her with the most loving solicitude. Coco, who as he grew up had learned to love his benefactresses as dearly as his goat, strove to make himself useful, and often diverted Denise from her melancholy by his childish prattle. She loved to watch and to fondle the child whom Auguste had loved; she had him taught all that could be taught him in the village; she guided his heart into the paths of virtue, for she wished him to do credit to his benefactor. Two years had passed since Auguste and Bertrand started on their travels. During that period Denise had been to Paris six times in quest of news of the travellers; but Schtrack had never been able to give her any, and she heard nothing from Virginie. At the end of two years Mère Fourcy fell sick, and, despite her niece's care, soon died in her arms. The loss of her aunt caused Denise the keenest sorrow; we can but regret profoundly those who throughout their lives have sought only to make us happy, without ever reminding us of what they have done for us--the latter being a method of conferring favors which freezes gratitude; for there are many people who do good, but there are very few good people. Denise was left alone on earth but for Coco, who was not yet eight. She let her house, which was now too large for her, and went to live in Coco's cottage, to which she added a small wing. There Denise was happier: it seemed to her that she was nearer Auguste. She was no longer obliged to be a milkmaid, and she hired an old peasant woman who undertook the house work. Denise busied herself about her garden and sought additional knowledge in books. In her aunt's lifetime she was rarely able to gratify her taste for reading, because Mère Fourcy considered that she already knew too much for a peasant. But nothing now prevented her from following her inclination and trying to train her mind. One by one Denise laid aside the coarse woolen skirt, the apron, the sackcloth waist; she wore clothes which, while they were most simple and unpretending, approximated the costume of Parisian ladies. Thereupon the villagers said to one another: