n, but without turning her
head, which was bent on the fireplace, and without saying a word.

"I understand," said Germain. "You pity me, for you are kind; you are
sorry to make me unhappy; but you cant love me."

"Why do you say these things to me, Germain?" answered little Marie,
after a pause. "Do you wish to make me cry?"

"Poor little girl, you have a kind heart, I know; but you don't love me,
and you are hiding your face for fear of letting me see your dislike and
your repugnance. And I? I dare not even clasp your hand! In the forest,
when my boy was asleep and you were sleeping too, I almost kissed you
very gently. But I would have died of shame rather than ask it of you,
and that night I suffered as a man burning over a slow fire. Since
that time I have dreamed of you every night. Ah! how I have kissed you,
Marie! Yet during all that time you have slept without a dream. And now,
do you know what I think? I think that were you to turn and look at me
with the eyes I have for you, and were you to move your face close to
mine, I believe I should fall dead for joy. And you, you think that if
such a thing were to happen, you would die of anger and shame!"

Germain spoke as in a dream, not hearing the words he said. Little Marie
was trembling all the time, but he was shaking yet more and did not
notice it. Of a sudden, she turned. Her eyes were filled with tears, and
she looked at him reproachfully. The poor husbandman thought that this
was the last blow, and without waiting for his sentence, he rose to go,
but the girl stopped him, and throwing both her arms about him, she hid
her face in his breast.

"Oh, Germain," she sobbed, "did n't you feel that I loved you?"

Then Germain had gone mad, if his son, who came galloping into the
cottage on a stick, with his little sister on the crupper, scourging the
imaginary steed with a willow branch, had not brought him to his senses.
He lifted the boy and placed him in the girl's arms.

"See," said he, "by loving me, you have made more than one person
happy."

APPENDIX

I -- A Country Wedding

HERE ends the history of Germain's marriage as he told it to me himself,
good husbandman that he is. I ask your forgiveness, kind reader, that I
know not how to translate it better; for it is a real translation that
is needed by this old-fashioned and artless language of the peasants
of the country "that I sing," as they used to say. These people speak
French that is t