"Come, now, be good; we can't think of stopping here. Why do you speak to me so roughly? Don't you know that I am your friend and your brother?"
"When you will know what has happened," replied she impatiently, "well—then—then—"
"Then I will console you as well as I can, my Jeannette."
"Oh! yes, but you can't do it, Jean-Louis; in my trouble nobody can console me."
"Let us see," said he.
"There is nothing to see," she cried. "I won't tell you anything."
"Then it will be difficult," he replied sadly. "Jeannette, if I were unhappy, I would not make such a fuss about telling you."
They continued on in silence. When they reached the top of the hill in the meadow of Fauché, from which could be seen the buildings of Muiceron, Jeannette suddenly stopped, and all the anger heaped up in her little heart melted into sobs.
"What will mother say when she sees you return with red eyes?" said good Jeannet, terribly distressed. "I beg of you, my darling, speak to me; you would never cry like this for nothing."
"O Jean-Louis! I am so unhappy," she cried, throwing herself in his arms; "and if they make me go back to school, I will certainly die."