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Within a quarter of an hour they had crossed the moors. They trotted along the high-road, and Grise neighed at every familiar object. Petit-Pierre told his father what had taken place so far as he had been able to understand it. "When we got there," he said, "that man came and talked to my Marie in the sheepfold, where we went first to see the fine sheep.
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.
He took his son in his arms without waking him, and insisted that Marie should come and take a part of his cloak as she would not take her own from around Petit-Pierre. When he felt the girl so near him, Germain, who had succeeded in diverting his thoughts and had brightened up a little for a moment, began to lose his head again.
"And I will ask you, Marie," said Germain, "to ask yourself the question, whether, when it comes to defending a woman and punishing a knave, a man of twenty-eight isn't too old? I'd like to know if Bastien, or any other pretty boy who has the advantage of being ten years younger than I am, wouldn't have been crushed by that man, as Petit-Pierre calls him: what do you think about it?"
Good-by, Germain; I'll take Petit-Pierre with me so as to force you to go to Fourche. I keep him as a pledge." "Do you want to go with her?" said the ploughman to his son, seeing that he was clinging to little Marie's hands and following her resolutely. "Yes, father," replied the child, who had been listening and understood in his own way what they had been saying unsuspectingly before him.
All these excellent reasons did not convince Petit-Pierre; he threw himself on the grass and rolled about, crying that his father did not love him, and that, if he refused to take him with him, he would not go back to the house day or night. Germain's fatherly heart was as soft and weak as a woman's.
Mère Maurice was riding in a small cart with Germain's three children and the fiddlers. They opened the march to the sound of the instruments. Petit-Pierre was so handsome that the old grandmother was immensely proud. But the impulsive child did not stay long beside her.
There's Petit-Pierre, he's what you might call educated; he can drive oxen very handily already; he knows enough to keep the cattle in the meadow, and he's strong enough to drive the horses to water. So he isn't the one to be a burden to us; but the other two we love them, God knows! poor innocent creatures! cause us much anxiety this year.
"I knew that we shouldn't go far before monsieur would cry from hunger or thirst." "I'm thirsty, too!" said Petit-Pierre. "Well, we will go to Mère Rebec's wine-shop at Corlay, at the sign of the Break of Day. A fine sign, but a poor inn! Come, Marie, you will drink a finger of wine too." "No, no, I don't need anything," she said, "I'll hold the mare while you go in with the little one."
"The poor creature still knows her progeny," said Germain to divert little Marie's thoughts from her grief. "That makes me think that I didn't kiss my Petit-Pierre before I started. The bad boy wasn't there. Last night, he strove to make me promise to take him along, and he cried a good hour in his bed. This morning again he tried everything to persuade me.
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