hings.

A certain occurrence had upset Pecuchet's mind.

Two days after the riot at Chavignolles, while he was airing his
political grievance, he had reached a road covered with tufted elms, and
heard behind his back a voice exclaiming, "Stop!"

It was Madame Castillon. She was rushing across from the opposite side
without perceiving him.

A man who was walking along in front of her turned round. It was Gorju;
and they met some six feet away from Pecuchet, the row of trees
separating them from him.

"Is it true," said she, "you are going to fight?"

Pecuchet slipped behind the ditch to listen.

"Well, yes," replied Gorju; "I am going to fight. What has that to do
with you?"

"He asks _me_ such a question!" cried she, flinging her arms about him.
"But, if you are killed, my love! Oh! remain!"

And her blue eyes appealed to him, still more than her words.

"Let me alone. I have to go."

There was an angry sneer on her face.

"The other has permitted it, eh?"

"Don't speak of her."

He raised his fist.

"No, dear; no. I don't say anything." And big tears trickled down her
cheeks as far as the frilling of her collarette.

It was midday. The sun shone down upon the fields covered with yellow
grain. Far in the distance carriage-wheels softly slipped along the
road. There was a torpor in the air--not a bird's cry, not an insect's
hum. Gorju cut himself a switch and scraped off the bark.

Madame Castillon did not raise her head again. She, poor woman, was
thinking of her vain sacrifices for him, the debts she had paid for him,
her future liabilities, and her lost reputation. Instead of complaining,
she recalled for him the first days of their love, when she used to go
every night to meet him in the barn, so that her husband on one
occasion, fancying it was a thief, fired a pistol-shot through the
window. The bullet was in the wall still. "From the moment I first knew
you, you seemed to me as handsome as a prince. I love your eyes, your
voice, your walk, your smell," and in a lower tone she added: "and as
for your person, I am fairly crazy about it."

He listened with a smile of gratified vanity.

She clasped him with both hands round the waist, her head bent as if in
adoration.

"My dear heart! my dear love! my soul! my life! Come! speak! What is it
you want? Is it money? We'll get it. I was in the wrong. I annoyed you.
Forgive me; and order clothes from the tailor, drink champagne--enjoy
yourself. I