During the five years of her residence at Granpere she had
thoroughly learned the mysteries of her uncle's trade. She knew
good wine from bad by the perfume; she knew whether bread was the
full weight by the touch; with a glance of her eye she could tell
whether the cheese and butter were what they ought to be; in a
matter of poultry no woman in all the commune could take her in; she
was great in judging eggs; knew well the quality of linen; and was
even able to calculate how long the hay should last, and what should
be the consumption of corn in the stables. Michel Voss was well
aware before Marie had been a year beneath his roof that she well
earned the morsel she ate and the drop she drank; and when she had
been there five years he was ready to swear that she was the
cleverest girl in Lorraine or Alsace. And she was very pretty, with
rich brown hair that would not allow itself to be brushed out of its
crisp half-curls in front, and which she always wore cut short
behind, curling round her straight, well-formed neck. Her eyes were
gray, with a strong shade indeed of green, but were very bright and
pleasant, full of intelligence, telling stories by their glances of
her whole inward disposition, of her activity, quickness, and desire
to have a hand in everything that was being done. Her father Jean
Bromar had come from the same stock with Michel Voss, and she, too,
had something of that aquiline nose which gave to the innkeeper and
his son the look which made men dislike to contradict them. Her
mouth was large, but her teeth were very white and perfect, and her
smile was the sweetest thing that ever was seen. Marie Bromar was a
pretty girl, and George Voss, had he lived so near to her and not
have fallen in love with her, must have been cold indeed.

At the end of these five years Marie had become a woman, and was
known by all around her to be a woman much stronger, both in person