your luncheon to my Pierre, and you haven't had anything to eat; you
refused to dine with us at the house, and did nothing but weep."

"Oh! I wasn't hungry, I was too sad! and I promise you that I haven't
the slightest desire to eat now."

"We must force you to, little one; otherwise you'll be sick. We have a
long way to go, and we mustn't arrive there half-starved, and ask for
bread before we say good-day. I propose to set you the example, although
I'm not very hungry; but I shall make out to eat, considering that I
didn't dine very well, either. I saw you and your mother weeping, and it
made my heart sick. Come, come, I will tie Grise at the door; get down,
I insist upon it."

All three entered Mere Rebec's establishment, and in less than a quarter
of an hour the stout, limping hostess succeeded in serving them an
omelet of respectable appearance with brown-bread and light wine.

Peasants do not eat quickly, and Petit-Pierre had such an enormous
appetite that nearly an hour passed before Germain could think of
renewing their journey. Little Marie ate to oblige at first; then her
appetite came, little by little; for at sixteen one cannot fast long,
and the country air is an imperious master. The kind words Germain said
to her to comfort her and give her courage also produced their effect;
she made an effort to persuade herself that seven months would soon be
passed, and to think how happy she would be to be at home once more, in
her own village, since Père Maurice and Germain were agreed in promising
to take her into their service. But as she was beginning to brighten up
and play with Petit-Pierre, Germain conceived the unfortunate idea of
telling her to look out through the wine-shop window at the lovely view