ied one another, and ended by finding their beds again one way or
another. On Saturday the fete lasted until nearly two o'clock in the
morning. They had caught six casks, two of them enormous. Fouasse and
Tupain almost fought. Tupain, who was wicked when drunk, talked of
finishing his brother. But that quarrel disgusted every one, the Floches
as well as the Mahes. Was it reasonable to keep on quarreling when the
whole village was embracing? They forced the two brothers to drink
together. They were sulky. The Emperor promised to watch them. Neither
did the Rouget household get on well. When Marie had taken anisette she
was prodigal in her attentions to Brisemotte, which Rouget could not
behold with a calm eye, especially since having become sensitive, he
also wished to be loved. The Abbe Radiguet, full of forbearance, did
well in preaching forgiveness; they feared an accident. "Bah!" said La
Queue; "all will arrange itself. If the fishing is good to-morrow, you
will see--Your health!"

However, La Queue himself was not yet perfect. He still kept his eye on
Delphin and leveled kicks at him whenever he saw him approach Margot.
The Emperor was indignant, for there was no common sense in preventing
two young people from laughing. But La Queue always swore to kill his
daughter sooner than give her to "the little one." Moreover, Margot
would not be willing.

"Isn't it so? You are too proud," he cried. "Never would you marry a
ragamuffin!"

"Never, papa!" answered Margot.

Saturday, Margot drank a great deal of sugary liqueur. No one had any
idea of such sugar. As she was no longer on her guard, she soon found
herself sitting close to the cask. She laughed, happy, in paradise; she
saw stars, and it seemed to her that there was music within her, playing
dance tunes. Then it was that Delphin slipped into the shadow of the
casks. He took her hand; he asked: "Say, Margot, will you?"

She kept on smiling. Then she replied: "It is papa who will not."

"Oh! that's nothing," said the little one; "you know the old ones never
will--provided you are willing, you." And he grew bold, he planted a
kiss on her neck. She bridled; shivers ran along her shoulders. "Stop!
You tickle me."

But she talked no more of giving him a slap. In the first place, she was
not able to, for her hands were too weak. Then it seemed nice to her,
those little kisses on the neck. It was like the liqueur that enervated
her so deliciously. She ended by turnin