le her tears suddenly
stopped, and dried up on her cheeks, like drops of water on hot iron,
and she exclaimed: "No, it is not he, it is not he!" "Is that really a
fact?" the cunning peasant, who partly guessed the truth, asked; and she
replied, hastily: "I will swear it; I will swear it to you...." She
tried to think of something by which to swear, as she did not venture to
invoke sacred things, but he interrupted her: "At any rate, he used to
follow you into every corner, and devoured you with his eyes at meal
times. Did you ever give him your promise, eh?"

This time she looked her master straight in the face. "No, never, never;
I will solemnly swear to you, that if he were to come to-day and ask me
to marry him, I would have nothing to do with him." She spoke with such
an air of sincerity that the farmer hesitated, and then he continued, as
if speaking to himself: "What, then? You have not had _a misfortune_, as
they call it, or it would have been known, and as it has no
consequences, no girl would refuse her master on that account. There
must be something at the bottom of it, however."

She could say nothing; she had not the strength to speak, and he asked
her again: "You will not?" "I cannot, master," she said, with a sigh,
and he turned on his heel.

She thought she had got rid of him altogether, and spent the rest of
the day almost tranquilly, but as worn out as if she had been turning
the threshing machine all day, instead of the old white horse, and she
went to bed as soon as she could, and fell asleep immediately. In the
middle of the night, however, two hands touching the bed, woke her. She
trembled with fear, but she immediately recognized the farmer's voice,
when he said to her: "Don't be frightened, Rose; I have come to speak to
you." She was surprised at first, but when he tried to take liberties
with her, she understood what he wanted, and began to tremble violently,
as she felt quite alone in the darkness, still heavy from sleep, and
quite unprotected, by the side of that man, who stood near her. She
certainly did not consent, but she resisted carelessly, herself
struggling against that instinct which is always strong in simple
natures, and very imperfectly protected, by the undecided will of inert
and feeble natures. She turned her head now to the wall, and now towards
the room, in order to avoid the attentions which the farmer tried to
press on her, and her body writhed a little under the coverlet,