Madame Desvignes’ younger daughter, Marthe, was delighted whenever her sister thus came to spend a few weeks in the old home, bringing her little ones with her, and once more occupying the room which had belonged to her in her girlish days.  All the laughter and playfulness of the past came back again, and the one dream of worthy Madame Desvignes, amid her pride at being a grandmamma, was of completing her life-work, hitherto so prudently carried on, by marrying off Marthe in her turn.  As a matter of fact it had seemed likely that there might be three instead of two weddings at Chantebled that spring.  Denis, who, since leaving a scientific school had embarked in fresh technical studies, often slept at the farm and nearly every Sunday he saw Marthe, who was of the same age as Rose and her constant companion.  The young girl, a pretty blonde like her sister Charlotte, but of a less impulsive and more practical nature, had indeed attracted Denis, and, dowerless though she was, he had made up his mind to marry her, since he had discovered that she possessed the sterling qualities that help one on to fortune.  But in their chats together both evinced good sense and serene confidence, without sign of undue haste.  Particularly was this the case with Denis, who was very methodical in his ways and unwilling to place a woman’s happiness in question until he could offer her an assured position.  Thus, of their own accord, they had postponed their marriage, quietly and smilingly resisting the passionate assaults of Rose, whom the idea of three weddings on the same day had greatly excited.  At the same time, Denis continued visiting Madame Desvignes, who, on her side, equally prudent and confident, received him much as if he were her son.  That morning he had even quitted the farm at seven o’clock, saying that he meant to surprise Blaise in bed; and thus he also was to be met at Janville.

As it happened, the fete of Janville fell on Sunday, the second in May.  Encompassing the square in front of the railway station were roundabouts, booths, shooting galleries, and refreshment stalls.  Stormy showers during the night had cleansed the sky, which was of a pure blue, with a flaming sun, whose heat in fact was excessive for the season.  A good many people were already assembled on the square—­all the idlers of the district, bands of children, and peasants of the surrounding country, eager to see the sights; and into the midst of this crowd fell the Froments—­first the bicyclists, next the wagon, and then the others who had been met at the entry of the village.

“We are producing our little effect!” exclaimed Rose as she sprang from her wheel.