He then advanced a step towards her.
"Tell me ... tell me.... You remember the day when Saudres went to sleep on the grass after lunch ... when we had walked together as far as the bend of the river, below ..."
He waited, expectantly. She had ceased to laugh, and looked at him, straight in the eyes.
"Yes, certainly, I remember it."
He answered, shivering all over.
"Well ... that day ... if I had been ... if I had been ... enterprising ... what would you have done?"
She began to laugh as only a happy woman can laugh, who has nothing to regret, and responded, frankly, in a voice tinged with irony:
"I would have yielded, my friend."
She then turned on her heels and went back to her jam-making.
Savel rushed into the street, cast down, as though he had encountered some great disaster. He walked with giant strides, through the rain, straight on, until he reached the river, without thinking where he was going. When he reached the bank he turned to the right and followed it. He walked a long time, as if urged on by some instinct. His clothes were running with water, his hat was bashed in, as soft as a piece of rag, and dripping like a thatched roof. He walked on, straight in front of him. At last, he came to the place where they had lunched so long, long ago, the recollection of which had tortured his heart. He sat down under the leafless trees, and he wept.