“Here’s a bright louis-d’or for you, little one! you won’t say anything, understand?  I’ll say that I concluded you weren’t strong enough for the work on my farm.—­And don’t let anything more be said about it.  I’ll come and see you again one of these days, and if you haven’t said anything, I’ll give you something else.  And then, if you’re more reasonable, you’ll only have to say the word:  I will take you home with me, or else come and talk with you in the pasture at dusk.  What present shall I bring you?”

“There is my gift to you, monsieur!” replied little Marie aloud, throwing his louis-d’or in his face with no gentle hand.  “I thank you very much, and I beg you to let me know beforehand when you are coming our way:  all the young men in my neighborhood will turn out to receive you, because our people are very fond of bourgeois who try to make love to poor girls!  You’ll see, they’ll be on the lookout for you!”

“You’re a liar and a silly babbler!” said the farmer in a rage, raising his stick threateningly.  “You’d like to make people believe what isn’t true, but you won’t get any money out of me:  I know your kind!”

Marie had recoiled in terror; but Germain darted to the farmer’s horse’s head, seized the rein, and shook it vigorously: 

“I understand now!” he said, “and I see plainly enough what the trouble was.  Dismount! my man! come down and let us have a talk!”

The farmer was by no means anxious to take a hand in the game:  he spurred his horse in order to free himself, and tried to strike the ploughman’s hands with his stick and make him relax his hold; but Germain eluded the blow, and, taking him by the leg, unhorsed him and brought him to the heather, where he knocked him down, although the farmer was soon upon his feet again and defended himself sturdily.

[Illustration:  Chapter XIV

Marie had recoiled in terror; but Germain darted to the farmer’s horse’s head, seized the rein, and shook it vigorously.]

“Coward!” said Germain, when he had him beneath him, “I could break every bone in your body if I chose!  But I don’t like to harm anybody, and besides, no punishment would mend your conscience.  However, you shan’t stir from this spot until you have asked this girl’s pardon on your knees.”

The farmer, who was familiar with affairs of that sort, tried to turn it off as a joke.  He claimed that his offence was not so very serious, as it consisted only in words, and said that he was willing to beg the girl’s pardon, on condition that he might kiss her and that they should all go and drink a pint of wine at the nearest inn and part good friends.

“You disgust me!” replied Germain, pressing his face against the ground, “and I long to see the last of your ugly face.  There, blush if you can, and you had better take the road of the affronteux[2] when you come to our town.”

He picked up the farmer’s holly staff, broke it across his knee to show the strength of his wrists, and threw the pieces away with a contemptuous gesture.