"What do you want?"
The peasant was very disconcerted when he found he had to state his business. He hesitated, stammered, cast his eyes from the cap he held in his hands to the château roof and back again, and at last began:
"M'sieu l'curé has said somethin' to me about this business—" then, fearing to say too much and thus injure his own interests, he stopped short.
"What business?" asked the baron. "I don't know what you mean."
"About your maid—what's her name—Rosalie," said the man in a low voice.
Jeanne, guessing what he had come about, got up and went away with her child in her arms.
"Sit down," said the baron, pointing to the chair his daughter had just left.
The peasant took the seat with a "Thank you, kindly," and then waited as if he had nothing whatever to say. After a few moments, during which no one spoke, he thought he had better say something, so he looked up to the blue sky and remarked:
"What fine weather for this time of year to be sure. It'll help on the crops finely." And then he again relapsed into silence.
The baron began to get impatient.