in the sheepfold, where we went first to see the fine sheep. I'd got up
into the crib to play, and _that man_ didn't see me. Then he said
good-day to my Marie and then he kissed her."

"You let him kiss you, Marie?" said Germain, trembling with anger.

"I thought it was a compliment, a custom of the place for new arrivals,
just as grandma, at your house, kisses the girls who take service with
her, to show that she adopts them and will be like a mother to them."

"And then," continued Petit-Pierre, who was very proud to have a story
to tell, "_that man_ said something naughty, something you told me not
to say and not to remember: so I forgot it right away. But if my papa
wants me to tell him what it was--"

"No, my Pierre, I don't want to hear it, and I don't want you to
remember it ever."

"Then I'll forget it again," said the child. "And then _that man_ acted
as if he was mad because Marie said she was going away. He told her he'd
give her all she wanted,--a hundred francs! And my Marie got mad, too.
Then he went at her, just like he was going to hurt her. I was afraid,
and I ran up to Marie and cried. Then _that man_ said like this: 'What's
that? where did that child come from? Put him out of here.' And he put
up his stick to beat me. But my Marie stopped him, and she said like
this: 'We will talk by and by, monsieur; now I must take this child to
Fourche, and then I'll come back again.' And as soon as he'd gone out of
the sheepfold, my Marie says to me like this: 'Let's run away, my
Pierre, we must go away right off, for that man's a bad man, and he
would only hurt us.'--Then we went behind the barns and crossed a little
field and went to Fourche to look for you. But you weren't there, and
they wouldn't let us wait for you. And then _that man_ came up behind
us on his black horse, and we ran still farther away, and then we went
and hid in the woods. Then he came, too, and we hid when we heard him
coming. And then, when he'd gone by, we began to run for ourselves so as
to go home; and then at last you came and found us; and that's all there
was. I didn't forget anything, did I, my Marie?"

"No, Pierre, and it's the truth. Now, Germain, you will bear witness for
me and tell everybody at home that it wasn't for lack of courage and
being willing to work that I couldn't stay over yonder."

"And I will ask you, Marie," said Germain, "to ask yourself the
question, whether, when it comes to defending a woman and punish