he touch of its horns.

'All right, I'll let you go now,' said Desiree, becoming aware of his
growing discomfort. 'But you must just let me show you something else
first. Promise not to scold me, won't you? I have not said anything to
you about it, because you wouldn't have allowed it.... But if you only
knew how pleased I am!'

As she spoke she put on an entreating expression, clasped her hands, and
laid her head upon her brother's shoulder.

'Another piece of folly, no doubt,' he murmured, unable to refrain from
smiling.

'You won't mind, will you?' she continued, her eyes glistening with
delight. 'You won't be angry?--He is so pretty!'

Thereupon she ran to open the low door under the shed, and forthwith a
little pig bounded into the middle of the yard.

'Oh! isn't he a cherub?' she exclaimed with a look of profound rapture
as she saw him leap out.

The little pig was indeed charming, quite pink, his snout washed clean
by the greasy slops placed before him, though incessant routing in his
trough had left a ring of dirt about his eyes. He trotted about, hustled
the fowls, rushing to gobble up whatever was thrown them, and upsetting
the little yard with his sudden turns and twists. His ears flapped over
his eyes, his snout went snorting over the ground, and with his slender
feet he resembled a toy animal on wheels. From behind, his tail looked
like a bit of string that served to hang him up by.

'I won't have this beast here!' exclaimed the priest, terribly put out.

'Oh, Serge, dear old Serge,' begged Desiree again, 'don't be so unkind.
See, what a harmless little thing he is! I'll wash him, I'll keep him
very clean. La Teuse went and had him given her for me. We can't send
him back now. See, he is looking at you; he wants to smell you. Don't be
afraid, he won't eat you.'

But she broke off, seized with irresistible laughter. The little pig had
blundered in a dazed fashion between the goat's legs, and tripped her
up. And he was now madly careering round, squeaking, rolling, scaring
all the denizens of the poultry-yard. To quiet him Desiree had to get
him an earthen pan full of dish-water. In this he wallowed up to his
ears, splashing and grunting, while quick quivers of delight coursed
over his rosy skin. And now his uncurled tail hung limply down.

The stirring of this foul water put a crowning touch to Abbe Mouret's
disgust. Ever since he had been there, he had choked more and more; his
hands and chest