Azenor was among them, and when he saw her coming solitary down the path, he approached her and, with a smile, extended his hat, whose crown was quite lined with the pretty colored eggs.
"You mus' of forgot to bring aiggs," he said. "Take some o' mine."
"Non, merci," she replied, flushing and drawing back.
But he urged them anew upon her. Much pleased, then, she bent her pretty head over the hat, and was evidently puzzled to make a selection among so many that were beautiful.
He picked out one for her,—a pink one, dotted with white clover-leaves.
"Yere," he said, handing it to her, "I think this is the prettied'; an' it look' strong too. I'm sho' it will break all of the res'." And he playfully held out another, half-hidden in his fist, for her to try its strength upon. But she refused to. She would not risk the ruin of her pretty egg. Then she walked away, without once having noticed that the girls, whom Azenor had left, were looking curiously at her.
When he rejoined them, he was hardly prepared for their greeting; it startled him.
"How come you talk to that girl? She's real canaille, her," was what one of them said to him.
"Who say' so? Who say she's canaille? If it's a man, I 'll smash 'is head!" he exclaimed, livid. They all laughed merrily at this.
"An' if it's a lady, Azenor? W'at you goin' to do 'bout it?" asked another, quizzingly.