necessary, I insist on it; for you can't remain in this state of doubt."

Germain obeyed. He went to Mère Guillette's, with downcast eyes and an
air of profound depression. Little Marie was alone in the
chimney-corner, musing so deeply that she did not hear Germain come in.
When she saw him before her, she leaped from her chair in surprise and
her face flushed.

"Little Marie," he said, sitting beside her, "I have pained you and
wearied you, I know; but _the man and the woman at our house_"--so
designating the heads of the family in accordance with custom--"want me
to speak to you and ask you to marry me. You won't be willing to do it,
I expect that."

"Germain," replied little Marie, "have you made up your mind that you
love me?"

"That offends you, I know, but it isn't my fault; if you could change
your mind, I should be too happy, and I suppose I don't deserve to have
it so. Come, look at me, Marie, am I so very frightful?"

"No, Germain," she replied, with a smile, "you're better looking than I
am."

"Don't laugh at me; look at me indulgently; I haven't lost a hair or a
tooth yet. My eyes tell you that I love you. Look into my eyes, it's
written there, and every girl knows how to read that writing."

Marie looked into Germain's eyes with an air of playful assurance; then
she suddenly turned her head away and began to tremble.