When they came to the end of a field he threw her down brutally. But she
grew frightened and screamed, and he walked off.

One evening, on the road leading to Beaumont, she came upon a wagon
loaded with hay, and when she overtook it, she recognised Theodore. He
greeted her calmly, and asked her to forget what had happened between
them, as it "was all the fault of the drink."

She did not know what to reply and wished to run away.

Presently he began to speak of the harvest and of the notables of the
village; his father had left Colleville and bought the farm of Les
Ecots, so that now they would be neighbours. "Ah!" she exclaimed. He
then added that his parents were looking around for a wife for him, but
that he, himself, was not so anxious and preferred to wait for a girl
who suited him. She hung her head. He then asked her whether she had
ever thought of marrying. She replied, smilingly, that it was wrong of
him to make fun of her. "Oh! no, I am in earnest," he said, and put his
left arm around her waist while they sauntered along. The air was soft,
the stars were bright, and the huge load of hay oscillated in front of
them, drawn by four horses whose ponderous hoofs raised clouds of dust.
Without a word from their driver they turned to the right. He kissed her
again and she went home. The following week, Theodore obtained meetings.

They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees. She was not
ignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are--for the animals had
instructed her;--but her reason and her instinct of honour kept her from
falling. Her resistance exasperated Theodore's love and so in order
to satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), he offered to marry her. She
would not believe him at first, so he made solemn promises. But, in a