"Very well," he said, "but then you must belong to me alone."
"All right," was her answer, "if you think you can please me."
He smiled and took her into his arms, and she was away from the village for a whole week. She had, in fact, become entirely Bru's exclusive property.
The village grew excited. They were not jealous of each other, but they were of him. What! Could she not resist him. Of course he had charms and spells against every imaginable thing. And they grew furious. Next they grew bold, and watched from behind a tree. She was still as lively as ever, but he, poor fellow, seemed to have become suddenly ill, and required the most tender nursing at her hands. The villagers, however, felt no compassion for the poor shepherd, and so, one of them, more courageous than the rest, advanced towards the hut with his gun in his hand:
"Tie up your dogs," he cried out from a distance; "fasten them up, Bru, or I shall shoot them."
"You need not be frightened of the dogs," La Morillonne replied; "I will be answerable for it that they will not hurt you;" and she smiled as the young man with the gun went towards her.
"What do you want?" the shepherd said.
"I can tell you," she replied. "He wants me and I am very willing. There!"
Bru began to cry, and she continued:
"You are a good for nothing."