her legs stretched out.

Gradually her eyes closed, and she was falling into a state of
delightful languor. She was, in fact, almost asleep, when she felt two
hands on her bosom, and then she sprang up at a bound. It was Jacques,
one of the farm laborers, a tall fellow from Picardy, who had been
making love to her for a long time. He had been looking after the sheep,
and seeing her lying down in the shade, he had come stealthily, and
holding his breath, with glistening eyes, and bits of straw in his hair.

He tried to kiss her, but she gave him a smack in the face, for she was
as strong as he, and he was shrewd enough to beg her pardon; so they sat
down side by side and talked amicably. They spoke about the favorable
weather, of their master, who was a good fellow, then of their
neighbors, of all the people in the country round, of themselves, of
their village, of their youthful days, of their recollections, of their
relations, who had left them for a long time, and it might be for ever.
She grew sad as she thought of it, while he, with one fixed idea in his
head, rubbed against her with a kind of a shiver, overcome by desire.

"I have not seen my mother for a long time," she said. "It is very hard
to be separated like that." And she directed her looks into the
distance, towards the village in the North, which she had left.

Suddenly, however, he seized her by the neck and kissed her again; but
she struck him so violently in the face with her clenched fist, that his
nose began to bleed, and he got up and laid his head against the stem of
a tree. When she saw that, she was sorry, and going up to him, she said:
"Have I hurt you?" He, however, only laughed. "No, it was a mere
nothing;" only, she had hit him right on the middle of the nose. "What a
devil!" he said, and he looked at her with admiration, for she had
inspired him with a feeling of respect and of a very different kind of
admiration, which was the beginning of real love for that tall, strong
wench.

When the bleeding had stopped, he proposed a walk, as he was afraid of
his neighbor's heavy hand, if they remained side by side like that much
longer; but she took his arm of her own accord, in the avenue, as if
they had been out for an evening walk, and said: "It is not nice of you
to despise me like that, Jacques." He protested, however. No, he did not
despise her. He was in love with her, that was all. "So you really want
to marry me?" she asked.

He hesitat