"In the fields! oh, yes! in the fields indeed! He's at Claude's wine-shop. He took all there was left of the money that gentleman give me, and told me he was going to put it into some great undertakin'. Oh, yes! I know all about that; he'll undertake to drink it all up in a day, if it's possible." "Would you like to have me take Coco away with me till night, Mère Madeleine?" "No, my girl, no; I'm an old woman, and I don't want to be left alone. Coco's got to stay with me." Denise kissed the child, who ran off to play and roll on the ground with his goat; then she returned to the village, asking herself: "How shall I go to work to do what that gentleman wants done?" The next day was Sunday. No work in the village. The women paid more attention to their toilet, they donned their prettiest gowns, and in the evening the whole population assembled on a beautiful greensward shaded by oaks and walnuts. There a wretched violin and a huge tambourine played for the young men and women to dance; they considered the orchestra divine, because it gave the signal for their enjoyment. Denise was the favorite among the young men, and aroused some jealous pangs in the hearts of her companions. The passions insinuate themselves everywhere; there are envious and evil-speaking folk in the village as well as in the city; but they are less skilled in disguising their sentiments. Denise was the prettiest girl in the village and in the country roundabout; that was what all the men said; but all the women did not agree. Denise was no coquette, but she was a woman; and what woman is there who is not conscious of a secret pleasure in the certainty that she is attractive, that she can prevail over her companions? But Denise did not play the coquette with the young men; she did not bestow a smile upon this one, a glance upon that one, a word of hope upon the other; but she laughed and joked and was pleasant to one and all alike; for she was very fond of dancing, and she liked to have everyone invite her to dance. On the Sunday in question, however, Denise, who had gone to the green with her aunt, as usual, did not seem to enjoy herself so much as she ordinarily did; she laughed less with the young men and seemed not to take any pleasure in dancing. And finally, a thing that had never been seen before, Denise, after four contradances, declared that she was tired and would like to rest a while. "Is it because you're sick, my child?" Mère Fourcy asked her niece, when she came and seated herself by her side. "No, aunt, I ain't sick, but I'm tired." "Tired! you! the greatest dancer in the whole country!" "Well! I guess one gets tired of everything, aunt. I don't feel in the mood to-day." "That makes a difference."