"Well, then, take an old man now."

"No indeed! when I am no longer young myself, it will be all the same to
me; now it would be different."

"I see, Marie, that you don't like me; that's very clear," said Germain
angrily, and without weighing his words.

Little Marie did not reply. Germain leaned over her: she was asleep; she
had fallen back, conquered, struck down, as it were, by drowsiness, like
children who fall asleep while they are prattling.

Germain was well pleased that she had not heard his last words; he
realized that they were unwise, and he turned his back upon her, trying
to change the current of his thoughts.

But it was of no avail, he could not sleep, nor could he think of
anything else than what he had just said. He walked around the fire
twenty times, walked away and returned; at last, feeling as excited as
if he had swallowed a mouthful of gunpowder, he leaned against the tree
that sheltered the two children and watched them sleeping.

[Illustration: Chapter IX

_The child knelt on the girl's skirt, clasped his little hands, and
began to repeat his prayer with interest and fervently at first, for he
knew the beginning very well_.]

"I don't know why I never noticed that little Marie is the prettiest
girl in the province!" he thought. "She hasn't a great deal of color,