ithout doubt the old man had
found the youth he had gone to seek a worthy youth in the lazy fellow
who stretched himself out upon the grass to make the girls fall in love
with him.

All Rocreuse clamored. The women at the doors had plenty to say on
the subject of the folly of Pere Merlier, who had thus introduced a
reprobate into his house. The miller let people talk on. Perhaps
he remembered his own marriage. He was without a sou when he wedded
Madeleine and her mill; this, however, had not prevented him from making
a good husband. Besides, Dominique cut short the gossip by going so
vigorously to work that all the district was amazed. The miller's
assistant had just been drawn to serve as a soldier, and Dominique would
not suffer another to be engaged. He carried the sacks, drove the cart,
fought with the old mill wheel when it refused to turn, and all this
with such good will that people came to see him out of curiosity. Pere
Merlier had his silent laugh. He was excessively proud of having formed
a correct estimate of this youth. There is nothing like love to give
courage to young folks. Amid all these heavy labors Francoise and
Dominique adored each other. They did not indulge in lovers' talks, but
there was a smiling gentleness in their glances.

Up to that time Pere Merlier had not spoken a single word on the subject
of marriage, and they respected this silence, awaiting the old man's
will. Finally one day toward the middle of July he caused three tables
to be placed in the courtyard, beneath the great elm, and invited his
friends of Rocreuse to come in the evening and drink a glass of wine
with him.

When the courtyard was full and all had their glasses in their hands,
Pere Merlier raised his very high and said:

"I have the pleasure to announce to you that Francoise will wed this
young fellow here in a month, on Saint Louis's Day."

Then they drank noisily. Everybody smiled. But Pere Merlier, again
lifting his voice, exclaimed:

"Dominique, embrace your fiancee. It is your right."

They embraced, blushing to the tips of their ears, while all the guests
laughed joyously. It was a genuine fete. They emptied a small cask of
wine. Then when all were gone but intimate friends the conversation was
carried on without noise. The night had fallen, a starry and cloudless
night. Dominique and Francoise, seated side by side on a bench, said
nothing.

An old peasant spoke of the war the emperor had declared against