opened the window. The night was covered with stars, a warm wind blowing
in the distance; the dogs were barking. He turned his head towards the
Bertaux.

Thinking that, after all, he should lose nothing, Charles promised
himself to ask her in marriage as soon as occasion offered, but each
time such occasion did offer the fear of not finding the right words
sealed his lips.

Old Rouault would not have been sorry to be rid of his daughter, who was
of no use to him in the house. In his heart he excused her, thinking
her too clever for farming, a calling under the ban of Heaven, since one
never saw a millionaire in it. Far from having made a fortune by it,
the good man was losing every year; for if he was good in bargaining, in
which he enjoyed the dodges of the trade, on the other hand, agriculture
properly so called, and the internal management of the farm, suited him
less than most people. He did not willingly take his hands out of his
pockets, and did not spare expense in all that concerned himself, liking
to eat well, to have good fires, and to sleep well. He liked old cider,
underdone legs of mutton, glorias* well beaten up. He took his meals in
the kitchen alone, opposite the fire, on a little table brought to him
all ready laid as on the stage.

*A mixture of coffee and spirits.

When, therefore, he perceived that Charles's cheeks grew red if near his
daughter, which meant that he would propose for her one of these days,
he chewed the cud of the matter beforehand. He certainly thought him a
little meagre, and not quite the son-in-law he would have liked, but he
was said to be well brought-up, economical, very learned, and no doubt