“Yes, monsieur, I wanted to ever so. Oh! that was such a nice thing you did! it was so generous! and even if you do have a little too much blarney with us girls, no matter—I let it go on account of that.”
“Bless my soul! what on earth have I done, Denise, to bring down all these compliments on my head?”
“What about Coco, and his soup-bowl, and his old grandmother—don’t you remember them?”
“How do you know so much, Denise?”
“Pardi! as if everything wasn’t known in the country! The old grandma’am came to the village to buy some things. Coco came with her, and he told everybody that a fine gentleman had given him money to buy another bowl. The grandmother described you, and I knew you right away. It’s too bad that Père Calleux is such a drunkard; he passed the whole night in the wine-shop drinking up the crown piece you gave him, and he’ll soon get away with the money you left for Coco too. But that ain’t your fault, and you were mighty kind to ‘em.”
“I did nothing except what was perfectly natural, Denise, and I am well rewarded at this moment.”
Denise had become more and more animated as she told Auguste what she knew, and the young man’s glances made her blush more than ever. She lowered her eyes and smiled, and stood for some moments before the man who was gazing at her, her arms hanging at her sides. Her awkwardness, her embarrassment and her coarse woolen skirt made the charms of her pretty face even more alluring.
At last she took up her cans, which she had placed on the ground, and said:
“I must take this milk to Mamzelle Julie; she’s generally up by this time.”
“One moment, Denise, I beg you.”