Jeanne, catching sight of her father's horrified expression, burst into a clear laugh which rang out as it used to do whenever she had seen something very funny: "Papa, papa!" she cried. "Did you hear the tone in which he said 'twenty thousand francs!'" The baroness, whose smiles lay as near the surface as her tears, quivered with laughter as she saw Jeanne's gayety, and thought of her son-in-law's furious face, and his indignant exclamations and determined attempt to prevent this money, which was not his, being given to the girl he had seduced. Finally the baron caught the contagion and they all three laughed till they ached as in the happy days of old. When they were a little calmer, Jeanne said: "It is very funny, but really I don't seem to mind in the least what he says or does now. I look upon him quite as a stranger, and I can hardly believe I am his wife. You see I am able to laugh at his--his want of delicacy." And the parents and child involuntarily kissed each other, with smiles on their lips, though the tears were not very far from their eyes. Two days after this scene, when Julien had gone out for a ride, a tall, young fellow of about four or five-and-twenty, dressed in a brand-new blue blouse, which hung in stiff folds, climbed stealthily over the fence, as if he had been hiding there all the morning, crept along the Couillards' ditch, and went round to the other side of the chateau where Jeanne and her father and mother were sitting under the plane-tree. He took off his cap and awkwardly bowed as he came towards them, and, when he was within speaking distance, mumbled: "Your servant, monsieur le baron, madame and company." Then, as no one said anything to him he introduced himself as "Desire Lecoq." This name failing to explain his presence at the chateau, the baron asked: "What do you want?" The peasant was very disconcerted when he found he had to state his business. He hesitated, stammered, cast his eyes from the cap he held in his hands to the chateau roof and back again, and at last began: "M'sieu l'cure has said somethin' to me about this business--" then, fearing to say too much and thus injure his own interests, he stopped short. "What business?" asked the baron. "I don't know what you mean." "About your maid--what's her name--Rosalie," said the man in a low voice. Jeanne, guessing what he had come about, got up and went away with her child in her arms. "Sit down," said the baron, pointing to the chair his daughter had just left. The peasant took the seat with a "Thank you, kindly," and then waited as if he had nothing whatever to say. After a few moments, during which no one spoke, he thought he had better say something, so he looked up to the blue sky and remarked: "What fine weather for this time of year to be sure. It'll help on the crops finely." And then he again relapsed into silence. The baron began to get impatient.