They met in yards, behind walls or under isolated trees.  She was not ignorant, as girls of well-to-do families are—­for the animals had instructed her;—­but her reason and her instinct of honour kept her from falling.  Her resistance exasperated Theodore’s love and so in order to satisfy it (or perchance ingenuously), he offered to marry her.  She would not believe him at first, so he made solemn promises.  But, in a short time he mentioned a difficulty; the previous year, his parents had purchased a substitute for him; but any day he might be drafted and the prospect of serving in the army alarmed him greatly.  To Felicite his cowardice appeared a proof of his love for her, and her devotion to him grew stronger.  When she met him, he would torture her with his fears and his entreaties.  At last, he announced that he was going to the prefect himself for information, and would let her know everything on the following Sunday, between eleven o’clock and midnight.

When the time grew near, she ran to meet her lover.

But instead of Theodore, one of his friends was at the meeting-place.

He informed her that she would never see her sweetheart again; for, in order to escape the conscription, he had married a rich old woman, Madame Lehoussais, of Toucques.

The poor girl’s sorrow was frightful.  She threw herself on the ground, she cried and called on the Lord, and wandered around desolately until sunrise.  Then she went back to the farm, declared her intention of leaving, and at the end of the month, after she had received her wages, she packed all her belongings in a handkerchief and started for Pont-l’Eveque.

In front of the inn, she met a woman wearing widow’s weeds, and upon questioning her, learned that she was looking for a cook.  The girl did not know very much, but appeared so willing and so modest in her requirements, that Madame Aubain finally said: 

“Very well, I will give you a trial.”

And half an hour later Felicite was installed in her house.

At first she lived in a constant anxiety that was caused by “the style of the household” and the memory of “Monsieur,” that hovered over everything.  Paul and Virginia, the one aged seven, and the other barely four, seemed made of some precious material; she carried them pig-a-back, and was greatly mortified when Madame Aubain forbade her to kiss them every other minute.

But in spite of all this, she was happy.  The comfort of her new surroundings had obliterated her sadness.

Every Thursday, friends of Madame Aubain dropped in for a game of cards, and it was Felicite’s duty to prepare the table and heat the foot-warmers.  They arrived at exactly eight o’clock and departed before eleven.