"Oh! no, Germain, I wouldn't do that! I should be too much afraid of
being mistaken; and, besides, if a word spoken thoughtlessly should
disgust you with this marriage, your people would blame me for it, and I
have enough troubles without bringing fresh ones on my poor dear
mother's head."

As they were talking thus, Grise pricked up her ears and shied, then
retraced her steps and approached the hedge, where there was something
which had frightened her at first, but which she now began to recognize.
Germain looked at the hedge and saw something that he took for a lamb in
the ditch, under the branches of an oak still thick and green.

"It's a stray lamb," he said, "or a dead one, for it doesn't move.
Perhaps some one is looking for it; we must see."

"It isn't a lamb," cried little Marie; "it's a child asleep; it's your
Petit-Pierre."

"Upon my word!" exclaimed Germain, dismounting; "just see the little imp
lying there asleep, so far from home, and in a ditch, where a snake
might find him!"

He raised the child, who opened his eyes and smiled at him, saying, as
he threw his arms around his neck:

"Little father, you're going to take me with you!"

"Oh, yes! still the same song! what were you doing there, naughty
Pierre?"