The ceremony was over; the women rose from their knees, and everyone began to hurry back. The choir-boy let the cross swing from side to side, or tilt forward till it nearly fell; the cure, no longer praying, hurried behind him; the choristers and the serpent-player disappeared down a narrow turning to get back and undress quickly, the sailors hastened past in twos and threes; a good lunch was waiting for them at Les Peuples and the very thought of it quickened their pace and made their mouths water. Sixty sailors and peasants sat down to the long table laid in the courtyard under the apple trees. The baroness sat at the middle of the table with the cure from Yport on one side of her and the Abbe Picot on the other; opposite her was the baron between the mayor and his wife. The mayoress was a thin, elderly country woman with a nod for everyone; her big Normandy cap fitted close round her thin face, making her head, with its round, astonished-looking eyes, look like a white-tufted fowl's, and she ate in little jerks as if she were pecking at her plate. Jeanne was silent, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, her head turned with joy. At last she asked the vicomte, who was sitting beside her: "What is your Christian name?" "Julien," he replied; "did you not know?" She did not answer him, for she was thinking: "How often I shall repeat that name to myself." When lunch was over, the courtyard was left to the sailors. The baroness began to take her exercise, leaning on the baron and accompanied by the two priests, and Jeanne and Julien walked down to the wood, and wandered along its little winding paths. All at once he took her hands in his. "Tell me," he said, "will you be my wife?" She hung her head, and he pleaded: "Do not keep me in suspense, I implore you." Then she slowly raised her eyes to his, and in that look he read her answer. * * * * * IV The baron went into Jeanne's room before she was up one morning soon after the christening of the boat, and sat down at the foot of the bed. "M. le Vicomte de Lamare has proposed for you," he said. Jeanne would have liked to hide her head under the bed-clothes. "We told him we must think over his proposal before we could give him an answer," continued the baron, who was smiling. "We did not wish to arrange anything without first consulting you; your mother and I made no objection to the marriage, but at the same time we did not make any promise. You are a great deal richer than he is, but when the happiness of a life is at stake the question of money ought not to be considered. He has no relations, so if you married him we should gain a son, whereas if you married anyone else you would have to go among strangers, and we should lose our daughter. We like the young fellow, but the question is, do you like him?" "I am quite willing to marry him, papa," she stammered out, blushing to the roots of her hair.