One or two of them who had seemed a little lazy during the day got a bit of blame, pronounced in a pleasant tone, but showing, nevertheless, that the master kept his two eyes open. Even the children, who had paid themselves with fruit as they played, got a few coppers from Squire Roquevillard, who loved them.
“Those that have received their pay pass to the left,” he said, in the midst of the proceedings. “I don’t want to begin again indefinitely.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea, though,” rejoined a fine-looking young woman of eighteen or twenty years.
She wore no kerchief on her head, as if to face the daylight the more openly with her youth. Her hair, a little disarranged, fell forward. Her mouth was large and her expression rather common, but she had a look of health, bright eyes, and in especial a golden tint, as of full white grapes that are reddened by warmth till they seem full of the elixir of the sun. Mr. Roquevillard stared at her.
“How fast you’ve grown, Catherine!” he said. “When are they going to marry you off?”
She reddened with pleasure at this public notice that was taken of her.
“Wait and see!”
“Well, well! You’re not bad looking, Catherine.”
And with the money that he handed her he joined a bit of counsel, putting it quite seriously:
“Be good, little girl. Virtue’s worth more than beauty.”