Froments passed by, it was because she had become aware of some scandalous proceedings during the previous week.  Therese’s ardent dream was to possess a bicycle, and she desired one the more since her parents stubbornly refused to content her, declaring in fact that those machines might do for bourgeois but were certainly not fit for well-behaved girls.  Well, one afternoon, when she had gone as usual into the fields, her mother, returning from market, had perceived her on a deserted strip of road, in company with little Gregoire Froment, another young wanderer whom she often met in this wise, in spots known only to themselves.  The two made a very suitable pair, and were ever larking and rambling along the paths, under the leaves, beside the ditches.  But the abominable thing was that, on this occasion, Gregoire, having seated Therese on his own bicycle, was supporting her at the waist and running alongside, helping her to direct the machine.  Briefly it was a real bicycle lesson which the little rascal was giving, and which the little hussy took with all the pleasure in the world.  When Therese returned home that evening she had her ears soundly boxed for her pains.

“Where can that little gadabout have got to?” La Lepailleur continued shouting.  “One can no sooner take one’s eyes off her than she runs away.”

Antonin, however, having peeped behind the booth containing the china ornaments, lurched back again, still with his hands in his pockets, and said with his vicious sneer:  “Just look there, you’ll see something.”

And indeed, behind the booth, his mother again found Therese and Gregoire together.  The lad was holding his bicycle with one hand and explaining some of the mechanism of it, while the girl, full of admiration and covetousness, looked on with glowing eyes.  Indeed she could not resist her inclination, but laughingly let Gregoire raise her in order to seat her for a moment on the saddle, when all at once her mother’s terrible voice burst forth:  “You wicked hussy! what are you up to there again?  Just come back at once, or I’ll settle your business for you.”

Then Mathieu also, catching sight of the scene, sternly summoned Gregoire:  “Please to place your wheel with the others.  You know what I have already said to you, so don’t begin again.”

It was war.  Lepailleur impudently growled ignoble threats, which fortunately were lost amid the strains of a barrel organ.  And the two families separated, going off in different directions through the growing holiday-making crowd.

“Won’t that train ever come, then?” resumed Rose, who with joyous impatience was at every moment turning to glance at the clock of the little railway station on the other side of the square.  “We have still ten minutes to wait:  whatever shall we do?”

As it happened she had stopped in front of a hawker who stood on the footway with a basketful of crawfish, crawling, pell-mell, at his feet.  They had certainly come from the sources of the Yeuse, three leagues away.  They were not large, but they were very tasty, for Rose herself had occasionally caught some in the stream.  And thus a greedy but also playful fancy came to her.