him to respect her as his sister. Marie mounted the mare, weeping
bitterly, after she had kissed her mother and her young friends twenty
times over. Germain, who was also in a melancholy mood, had the more
sympathy with her grief, and rode away with a grave face, while the
neighbors waved their hands in farewell to poor Marie, with no thought
of evil to come.




VI

PETIT-PIERRE


_Grise_ was young and strong and handsome. She carried her double load
easily, putting back her ears and champing her bit like the proud,
high-spirited mare she was. As they rode by the long pasture, she spied
her mother--who was called Old Grise, as she was called Young Grise--and
neighed an adieu. Old Grise approached the fence, making her hopples
ring, tried to leap over into the road to follow her daughter; then,
seeing that she started off at a fast trot, she neighed in her turn, and
stood looking after her, pensive and disturbed in mind, with her nose in
the air, and her mouth filled with grass which she forgot to eat.

"The poor creature still knows her progeny," said Germain to divert
little Marie's thoughts from her grief. "That makes me think that I
didn't kiss my Petit-Pierre before I started. The bad boy wasn't there.
Last night, he strove to make me promise to take him along, and he
cried a good hour in his bed. This morning again he tried everything to