"As you see, madame, I have brought cheese and milk as usual." "I didn't order any cheeses of you; in fact, yours are bitter, and I don't want any more of them. As for your milk, you put water in it, and I propose to take mine of somebody else." "Water in my milk!" cried Denise, whose eyes filled with tears when she heard her merchandise thus vilified. "You're the first person that ever said that, madame, I tell you! And I swear----" "All right, mademoiselle, that's enough; I don't want you ever to set foot inside my doors again. I thought that you were a decent, virtuous girl; I don't like little hussies." "Hussies! Mon Dieu! what have I done to madame?" "We saw it all, mademoiselle. And that purse in your hand is proof enough." "That purse, madame," said Auguste, walking to Denise's side, "is destined for a charitable purpose, to relieve an unfortunate person. But I see that an evil interpretation is always put upon everything.--Poor Denise! I am responsible for your being made wretched! And when, by chance, I attempt to do a good deed, they think that I am trying to seduce you.--Do you suppose, mesdames, that one wins the love of a milkmaid with money? Remember, please, that this is not Paris." While Auguste was speaking, Denise became calm; she wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron, and recovered sufficient assurance to say to Madame Destival: "I ought not to cry at what you said to me, madame, for I haven't done anything to be ashamed of.--Adieu, monsieur; I'll take your money and try to carry out your kind intentions." With that, Denise curtsied to the company, and, still choking back her sobs, returned to White Jean and left the business agent's house. Madame Destival, conscious of some embarrassment, returned to the garden. Athalie walked up to Auguste and said, with a laugh: "You must admit, monsieur, that you kissed her at least six times in succession." "I didn't count, madame." "You seemed to like it." "Very much, madame." "Monsieur is frank, at all events." "That is, perhaps, my one good quality." "But why did you kiss her?" "Is she not very pretty, madame?" "Pretty! perhaps; as coarse, rustic beauties go." "No, no! on the contrary, her features are extremely delicate." "But she's a milkmaid!" "What difference do you see between a pretty country girl and a pretty city girl?" "Why, an enormous difference, monsieur. What about education, good manners, and refinement--do you count all those as nothing? Would you go out in Paris, or even in the country, with a milkmaid on your arm?" "No, madame, I admit that I should not be enough of a philosopher for that. But just put on Denise----" "Who is Denise, pray?" "This little milkmaid, madame." "Oho! so monsieur knows her name?" "Yes, madame." "Well, monsieur, what do you propose to put on Mademoiselle Denise?" "A pretty hat, a stylish dress, a handsome shawl----" "Ah! she would cut a strange figure in all those things!"