“We have brought you something.”
She asked: “Let's see it.”
Then Jean, blushing to the tips of his ears, reached in his pocket, and drawing out the little paper bag, handed it to her.
She began to eat the little sweet dainties. The two soldiers sat in front of her, moved and delighted.
At last she went to do her milking, and when she came back she again gave them some milk.
They thought of her all through the week and often spoke of her: The following Sunday she sat beside them for a longer time.
The three of them sat there, side by side, their eyes looking far away in the distance, their hands clasped over their knees, and they told each other little incidents and little details of the villages where they were born, while the cow, waiting to be milked, stretched her heavy head toward the girl and mooed.
Soon the girl consented to eat with them and to take a sip of wine. Often she brought them plums pocket for plums were now ripe. Her presence enlivened the little Breton soldiers, who chattered away like two birds.
One Tuesday something unusual happened to Luc Le Ganidec; he asked for leave and did not return until ten o'clock at night.
Jean, worried and racked his brain to account for his friend's having obtained leave.