"'Tis granted."
They fixed the following Thursday for the formality of signing the marriage contract.
Nobody should know anything about it up to the last moment.
"Agreed."
And off he went, looking up towards the sky, nimble as a roebuck.
Pécuchet on the morning of the same day said in his own mind that he would die if he did not obtain the favours of his little maid, and he followed her into the cellar, hoping the darkness would give him courage.
She tried to go away several times, but he detained her in order to count the bottles, to choose laths, or to look into the bottoms of casks—and this occupied a considerable time.
She stood facing him under the light that penetrated through an air-hole, with her eyes cast down, and the corner of her mouth slightly raised.
"Do you love me?" said Pécuchet abruptly.
"Yes, I do love you."