The girl’s tone was not encouraging, and Auguste looked along the road to see whether he could still see his cabriolet; but it had disappeared, for White Jean stopped very often to eat leaves or grass, despite the blows with the switch which his mistress bestowed on him.
“Do you know,” said Auguste, “you are not very agreeable, my lovely child? You are so pretty that I thought you would be gentler, less savage.”
“That’s just it! monsieur thought he was going to turn my head with his flattery! But I’m used to meeting young men from Paris; it’s always the same old song; they think they can make themselves welcome just by telling me I’m pretty! Oh! you’re a parcel of flatterers! but I don’t listen to you, you see!”
“I should like to hear anyone deny again that virtue has its home in the village!” said Auguste to himself. “It is clear enough to my mind that the country is the place where we find the pure morals of the ancient patriarch, the models of virtue celebrated by the poets, the—That devil of a Bertrand needn’t have driven Bébelle so fast; he must have done it from pure mischief! And when I said that we were almost there I was lying. It’s at least three-quarters of a league farther!”
To complete the young man’s discomfiture, the milkmaid turned aside from the high road into a path that led through the woods. Auguste stood for a moment hesitating at the entrance to the path. Should he follow his cabriolet? or should he follow the girl? The first course was the more sensible, and that was his reason no doubt for deciding in favor of the second.
The time that Auguste had passed in indecision had allowed the milkmaid to get some distance ahead of him; she walked along the path, and, thinking that the young man had followed the highroad, she sang as she drove White Jean in front of her:
“You love me, you say,
Then prove it, I pray;
But dandies like you,
Would hoax us, I know.”
“Very pretty! although the rhyme isn’t first-class,” said Auguste, quickening his pace to overtake the girl. She turned, and seemed surprised to see the young man in the path behind her.
“What! you coming this way?” said the milkmaid, in a somewhat uncertain voice.
“To be sure; this path is lovely.”