Jan was an admirable countryman of twenty, as well-behaved as a girl, well-built and open-hearted. He was very handsome and so caught the eye of lots of women, but he had eyes for only one--a petite girl from Arles, velvet and lace vision, whom he had once met in the town's main square. This wasn't well received at first in the farm. The girl was known as a flirt, and her parents weren't local people. But Jan wanted her, whatever the cost. He said: --I will die if I don't have her. And so, it just had to be. The marriage was duly arranged to take place after the harvest. One Sunday evening, the family were just finishing dinner in the courtyard. It was almost a wedding feast. The fiancée was not there, but her health and well-being were toasted throughout the meal.... A man appeared unexpectedly at the door, and stuttered a request to speak to Estève, the master of the house, alone. Estève got up and went out onto the road. --Monsieur, the man said, you are about to marry your boy off to a woman who is a bitch, and has been my mistress for two years. I have proof of what I say; here are some of her letters!... Her parents know all about it and have promised her to me, but since your son took an interest in her, neither she nor they want anything to do with me.... And yet I would have thought that after what has happened, she couldn't in all conscience marry anyone else. --I see, said Master Estève after scanning the letters; come in; have a glass of Muscat. The man replied: --Thanks, but I am too upset for company. And he went away. The father went back in, seemingly unaffected, and retook his place at the table where the meal was rounded off quite amiably. That evening, Master Estève went out into the fields with his son. They stayed outside some time, and when they did return the mother was waiting up for them. --Wife, said the farmer bringing their son to her, hug him, he's very unhappy.... * * * * * Jan didn't mention the Arlesienne ever again. He still loved her though, only more so, now he knew that she was in the arms of someone else. The trouble was that he was too proud to say so, and that's what killed the poor boy. Sometimes, he would spend entire days alone, huddled in a corner, motionless. At other times, angry, he would set himself to work on the farm, and, on his own, get through the work of ten men. When evening came, he would set out for Arles, and walk expectantly until he saw the town's few steeples appearing in the sunset. Then he turned round and went home. He never went any closer than that. The people in the farm didn't know what to do, seeing him always sad and lonely. They feared the worst. Once, during a meal, his mother, her eyes welling with tears, said to him: --Alright, listen Jan, if you really want her, we will let you take her.... The father, blushing with shame, lowered his head.... Jan shook his head and left....