Before noon, the two bands met on the edge of the wood, where dwelt our old friend, the game-keeper. Pierre Luguet, after leaving home, had taken care to pass by, so as to forewarn him. Jacques Michou threw up his cap at the news; he also despised Riponin, and, more than any other, he had good reason for hating him. He therefore laid his plans, and borrowed from the château a huge kettle, such as is used during the vintage for pressing the grapes, which he put up, for their service, in his little barn. Everything was ready at the appointed hour, and I can assure you the delightful surprise was fully appreciated by our young friends. The two leaders had taken the precaution to tell each one of the boys to bring half a loaf of bread, a piece of goat's cheese, and a slice of pork; so the soup was doubly welcome, as it was not expected, and the cider still more so, as they had counted only on the river-water. This good beginning put them in splendid humor; and when, after being fully refreshed, they marched up to the château to pay their respects to M. le Marquis before beginning their work, one would have said, from the noise and singing, that it was a band of conscripts who had drawn the lucky number.
They instantly put their shoulders to the plough. Jeannet wisely made them commence with the worst fields, so that, when the first excitement was over, and they would be rather fatigued, they could find that they had not eaten the white bread first. Thus, having been well selected, well fed, well paid, and, above all, well led, our boys did wonders, not only that afternoon, but on the following days. The weather, however, was decidedly against them; rain drenched the laborers, and strong winds prevented them from building up the hay-stacks; but their ardor was so great that nothing discouraged them; and often, when Jeannet, moved by sympathy, put it to vote whether they should continue or not, he saw with pleasure that not one man deserted his post.
At the end of a week, half the work was so well under way it could easily be seen that, in spite of the bad season and worse management, M. le Marquis would not lose all his crops this time, but that, on the contrary, his barns would make a very good show, if not in quality, at least in quantity. The worthy gentleman came several times himself to visit the laborers and distribute extra pay. On these occasions it was admirable to see the modesty of Jean-Louis, who always managed to disappear, leaving to Pierre Luguet the honor of showing the progress of the work to M. le Marquis; and as workmen are generally just when they are not found fault with, brow-beaten, or ill-treated, they rendered to Jean-Louis greater honor and respect the more he concealed himself from their applause. In short, everything went on well to the end without interruption.
The given fortnight was not over when the last cart-load, ornamented on top with a huge bouquet of flowers and sheaves of wheat tied with ribbons, was conducted in triumph, accompanied with songs of joy, under the windows of mademoiselle, who appeared on the balcony, with Jeannette Ragaud on her right and Dame Berthe on the left. M. le Marquis was in the court of honor, enchanted with the success of the measure; and Ragaud and Michou could not remain quiet, but clapped their hands, and cried "Bravo!" to the brave young men.
Jean-Louis tried to escape this time also, but was not allowed. His friends raised him in their arms, and placed him on top of the cart with his good comrade, Pierre Luguet; and thus they made their appearance, both standing alongside of the bouquet, Jeannet crimson with shame and vexation, whilst Pierre sang loud enough to crack his throat.
You can imagine that this cart, upon which had been heaped the last gleanings of the harvest, was piled up immensely high, so that the top was on a level with the first floor of the château, and mademoiselle could thus converse at her ease with the young men.
She spoke most graciously to Jean-Louis, and congratulated him with words so complimentary that the poor fellow wished himself under the grain, rather than on top. What embarrassed him still further was to see his sister Jeannette playing the part of great lady as much as her mistress. With his usual good sense, he considered it out of place, and would have been much better pleased if she had appeared ill at ease in her false position; but, far from that, she leaned over the balcony, laughing and talking like a vain little parrot, and even rallied Jean-Louis on his subdued manner.
He did not wish to spoil the affair by looking severe and discontented, but he was grieved at heart, and hastened to put an end to the scene.
Mademoiselle, at the close of her complimentary remarks, presented each of the two friends with a little box of the same size, wrapped in beautiful paper, and tied with pink ribbon.
"They are filled with bonbons," said she in her sweet, gentle voice; "and you will not refuse to eat them in remembrance of me?"