t as he had come
in, and I went and asked Pauline what he had said. She took the baby
in her arms and, crying as she told me, she said that M. Tirande was
going to take the farm away from her and give it to his son, who had
just got married.

At the end of the week M. Tirande came back with his son and his
daughter-in-law. They visited the outhouses first, and when they came
into the house, M. Tirande stopped in front of me a minute, and told me
that his daughter-in-law had made up her mind to take me into her
service. Pauline heard him say so, and made a step towards me. But
just then Eugene came in with a lot of papers in his hand, and
everybody sat down round the table. While they were all reading the
papers and signing, I looked at M. Tirande's daughter-in-law. She was
a big, dark woman with large eyes and a bored look. She left the farm
with her husband without having glanced at me once. When their cart
had disappeared down the avenue of chestnut trees, Pauline told Eugene
what M. Tirande had said to me. Eugene, who was leaving the room,
turned to me suddenly. He looked very angry, and his voice was quite
changed. He said that these people were disposing of me as though I
were a bit of furniture which belonged to them. While Pauline was
pitying me, Eugene told me that it was M. Tirande who had told Master
Silvain to take me on the farm. He reminded Pauline how sorry the
farmer had been because I was such a weakling, and he told me that he
was very sorry not to be able to take me with them to their new farm.
We were all three standing in the living-room. I could feel Pauline's
sad eyes on my head, and Eugene's voice made me think of a hymn.
Pauline was to leave the farm at the end of the summer.

I worked hard every day to put the linen in order. I didn't want
Pauline to take away a single piece of torn linen with her, I worked
hard with my darning-needle, as Bonne Justine had taught me, and I
folded every piece as well as I could.

In the evening I found Eugene sitting on the bench by the door. The
moon was shining on the roofs of the sheep-pens, and there was a white
cloud over the dung-heap which looked like a tulle veil. There was no
sound whatever from the cow-house. All that we heard was the squeaking
of the cradle which Pauline was rocking to put her child to sleep.

As soon as the corn had been got in, Eugene began getting ready to go.
The cowherd took away the cattle, and old Bibiche w