"What is it?" Pierre asked him.
"I cannot," Auguste said. "I cannot go there." He felt a quaver in his voice and his lips trembling, and he held himself rigid.
"Why not, Auguste?" Pierre said softly.
"I do not know what to do here. I have never seen such a place as this. I will do foolish things. All those people will laugh at me. You will not want me for a son."
"Let us wait," said Pierre. "Get down from your horse."
Biting his lip, Auguste dismounted.
"We shall sit here," said Pierre. They sat, facing each other. Auguste saw people approaching through the straight rows of trees. Pierre saw them, too, and waved them away.
They sat for a long time in silence while their horses grazed nearby. Auguste held his misery in until he felt calmer.
He looked at Pierre and nodded to say that he was in control of himself. Pierre nodded back. Auguste looked at the petal-covered ground, feeling crushed.
"All this is strange to you," Pierre said.