"What? Do you think he is crazy? He does not look wicked, as far as I can see, for he seems to be hiding his face."
"Suppose he has come for some bad purpose?"
"Do not be afraid, Mariette, for I am near to keep him in check. If he alarms you, I shall pour a kettle of boiling water over his legs, and throw an andiron at his head."
While they were chattering thus, François was thinking of Madeleine.
"That poor dear woman," said he to himself, "who has never had anything but vexation and unkindness from her husband, is now lying ill because she nursed and helped him to the end. Here is this young girl, who was the miller's pet sister, as I have heard say, and her face bears no traces of sorrow. She shows no signs of fatigue or tears, for her eyes are as dear and bright as the sun."
He could not help looking at her from under the brim of his hat, for never until then had he seen such fresh and joyous beauty. Still, though his eyes were charmed, his heart remained untouched.
"Come," continued Catherine, in a whisper to her young mistress, "I am going to speak to him. I must find out his business here."
"Speak to him politely," said Mariette. "We must not irritate him; we are all alone in the house, and Jeannie may be too far away to hear our cries."
"Jeannie!" exclaimed François, who caught nothing from all their prattle, except the name of his old friend. "Where is Jeannie, and why don't I see him? Has he grown tall, strong, and handsome?"
"There," thought Catherine, "he asks this because he has some evil intention. Who is the man, for Heaven's sake? I know neither his voice nor his figure; I must satisfy myself and look at his face."