"Well, gammer! what's your price?" Buteau asked the peasant-woman.
The latter, who had observed the manœuvres of the party, repeated calmly: "Four hundred francs."
At first he treated the matter lightly, and joked, addressing the man, who was still standing silent and apart:
"I say, old 'un! is your good-woman thrown in at that price?"
During his banter, however, he made a close examination of the cow, and found it constituted as a good milker should be—with a wiry head, slender horns, and big eyes; the belly well-developed and streaked with large veins; the limbs inclining to slimness; the tail thin, and set very high. Stooping down, he assured himself of the length of the udders and the elasticity of the teats, which were regularly defined in position and well pierced. Then, resting one hand on the animal, he began bargaining, while he mechanically felt the bones of the crupper.
"Four hundred francs, eh? You're joking! Will you take three hundred?"
Meanwhile, with his hand he was verifying the strength and proper arrangement of the bones. Then he let his fingers slip between the thighs, to the part where the bare skin, of a fine saffron colour, bespoke an abundance of milk.
"Three hundred francs. Is it agreed?"
"No; four hundred," replied the peasant-woman.
He then turned away. When he came back, she decided to speak.