“No; stay where you are.”
She spoke so imperiously that the peasant remained riveted to the spot, hanging his head.
“She thinks I am changed, but,” said he, “it is she who is another sort altogether.”
When he was roused by hearing the horse’s hoofs going away, he looked out and saw Catherine riding by a side path towards the highway.
It occurred to him that though she had forbid him to accompany her, she had not said he must not follow her.
He dashed out and took a short cut through the woods, where he was at home, till he reached the main road. But though he waited a half-hour, he saw nobody.
He thought she might have forgotten something at the farm and started back for it; and he returned by the highway. But on looking up a lane he spied her white cap at a distance.
Instead of going to Fertemilon, as she distinctly stated, she was proceeding to Boursonne.
He darted on in the same direction but by a parallel line.
It was no longer to follow her but to spy her.