“Oh!” she simply said.

But her astonishment was such that she dropped her basket.  The provisions, cauliflowers, onions, apples, rolled on to the carpet.  Jeanne gave a cry of delight, and falling on her knees, began hunting for the apples, even under the chairs and the wardrobe.  Meanwhile Rosalie, as though paralyzed, never moved, though she repeated: 

“What! it’s you!  What are you doing here? what are you doing here?  Say!”

Then she turned to Helene with the question:  “Was it you who let him come in?”

Zephyrin never uttered a word, but contented himself with winking slily.  Then Rosalie gave vent to her emotion in tears; and, to show her delight at seeing him again, could hit on nothing better than to quiz him.

“Oh! go away!” she began, marching up to him.  “You look neat and pretty I must say in that guise of yours!  I might have passed you in the street, and not even have said:  ‘God bless you.’  Oh! you’ve got a nice rig-out.  You just look as if you had your sentry-box on your back; and they’ve cut your hair so short that folks might take you for the sexton’s poodle.  Good heavens! what a fright you are; what a fright!”

Zephyrin, very indignant, now made up his mind to speak.  “It’s not my fault, that’s sure!  Oh! if you joined a regiment we should see a few things.”

They had quite forgotten where they were; everything had vanished—­the room, Helene and Jeanne, who was still gathering the apples together.  With hands folded over her apron, the maid stood upright in front of the little soldier.

“Is everything all right down there?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, excepting Guignard’s cow is ill.  The veterinary surgeon came and said she’d got the dropsy.”

“If she’s got the dropsy, she’s done for.  Excepting that, is everything all right?”

“Yes, yes!  The village constable has broken his arm.  Old Canivet’s dead.  And, by the way, his reverence lost his purse with thirty sous in it as he was a-coming back from Grandval.  But otherwise, things are all right.”

Then silence fell on them, and they looked at one another with sparkling eyes, their compressed lips slowly making an amorous grimace.  This, indeed, must have been the manner in which they expressed their love, for they had not even stretched out their hands in greeting.  Rosalie, however, all at once ceased her contemplation, and began to lament at sight of the vegetables on the floor.  Such a nice mess! and it was he who had caused it all!  Madame ought to have made him wait on the stairs!  Scolding away as fast as she could, she dropped on her knees and began putting the apples, onions, and cauliflowers into the basket again, much to the disgust of Jeanne, who would fain have done it all herself.  And as she turned, with the object of betaking herself into her kitchen, never deigning another look in Zephyrin’s direction, Helene, conciliated by the healthy tranquillity of the lovers, stopped her to say: