formulated themselves by calling up
before the mind the picture of a big red-haired girl standing in a
hollow road and laughing, with her hands on her hips.

It was thus he saw her on the day when he first took a fancy for her. He
had, however, known her from infancy, but never had he been so struck by
her as on that morning. They had stopped to talk for a few minutes and
then he went away, and as he walked along he kept repeating:

"Faith, she's a fine girl, all the same. 'Tis a pity she made a slip
with Victor."

Till evening he kept thinking of her and also on the following morning.

When he saw her again he felt something tickling the end of his throat,
as if a cock's feather had been driven through his mouth into his chest,
and since then, every time he found himself near her, he was astonished
at this nervous tickling which always commenced again.

In three months he made up his mind to marry her, so much did she please
him. He could not have said whence came this power over him, but he
explained it in these words:

"I am possessed by her," as if the desire for this girl within him were
as dominating as one of the powers of hell. He scarcely bothered himself
about her transgression. It was a pity, but, after all, it did her no
harm, and he bore no grudge against Victor Lecoq.

But if the cure should not succeed, what was he to do? He did not dare
to think of it, the anxiety was such a torture to him.

He reached the presbytery and seated himself near the little gateway to
wait for the priest's return.

He was there perhaps half an hour when he heard steps on the road, and
although the night was very dark, he presently distinguished the still
darker shadow of the cassock.

He rose up, his legs giving way under him, not even venturing to speak,
not daring to ask a question.

The clergyman perceived him and said gaily:

"Well, my lad, it's all right."

Cesaire stammered:

"All right, 'tisn't possible."

"Yes, my lad, but not without trouble. What an old ass your father is!"

The peasant repeated:

"'Tisn't possible!"

"Why, yes. Come and look me up to-morrow at midday in order to settle
about the publication of the banns."

The young man seized the cure's hand. He pressed it, shook it, bruised
it as he stammered:

"True-true-true, Monsieur le Cure, on the word of an honest man, you'll
see me to-morrow-at your sermon."

PART II

The wedding took place in the middle of Dec