When they reached the village, the widow stopped to wait for them. She
was determined to make her entry with her whole suite; but Germain,
refusing to afford her that satisfaction, left Père Léonard, spoke with
several people of his acquaintance, and entered the church by another
door. The widow was vexed with him.

After the Mass, she made her appearance in triumph on the greensward
where dancing was in progress, and opened three successive dances with
her three lovers. Germain watched her, and concluded that she danced
well, but with affectation.

"Well!" said Léonard, clapping him on the shoulder, "so you don't ask my
daughter to dance? You are altogether too bashful!"

"I don't dance since I lost my wife," the ploughman replied.

"Oh! but when you're looking for another, mourning's at an end in your
heart as well as in your clothes."

"That's no argument, Père Léonard; besides, I feel too old, I don't care
for dancing any more."

"Hark ye," rejoined Léonard, leading him apart, "you took offence when
you entered my house, because you found the citadel already surrounded
by besiegers, and I see that you're very proud; but that isn't
reasonable, my boy. My daughter's used to being courted, especially
these last two years since her mourning came to an end, and it isn't her
place to make advances to you."