ong, very enjoyable. When they
had afterwards taken a turn together, Antoine said to his father:

"Well dad, what do you say to this?"

The peasant took care never to compromise himself.

"I have no opinion about it. Ask your mother."

So Antoine went back to his mother, and leading her to the end of the
room, said:

"Well mother, what do you think of her?"

"My poor lad, she is really too black. If she were only a little less
black, I would not go against you, but this is too much. One would
think it was Satan!"

He did not press her, knowing how obstinate the old woman had always
been, but he felt a tempest of disappointment sweeping over his heart.
He was turning over his mind what he ought to do, what plan he could
devise, surprised, moreover, that she had not conquered them already
as she had captivated himself. And they, all four, set out with slow
steps through the cornfields, having again relapsed into silence.
Whenever they passed a fence they saw a countryman sitting on the
stile, and a group of brats climbed up to stare at them and everyone
rushed out into the road to see the "black" whom young Boitelle had
brought home with him. At a distance they noticed people scampering
across the fields just as when the drum beats to draw public attention
to some living phenomenon. Pere and Mere Boitelle, scared by this
curiosity, which was exhibited everywhere through the country at their
approach, quickened their pace, walking side by side, and leaving far
behind their son, when his dark companion asked what his parents
thought of her.

He hesitatingly replied that they had not yet made up their minds.

But, on the village-green, people rushed out of all the houses in a
flutter of excitement; and, at the sight of the gathering rabble, old
Boitelle took to his heels and regained his abode, whilst Antoine,
swelling with rage, his sweetheart on his arm, advanced majestically
under the staring eyes which opened wide in amazement.

He understood that it was at an end, and there was no hope for him,
that he could not marry his negress, she also understood it; and as
they drew near the farmhouse they both began to weep. As soon as they
had got back to the house, she once more took off her dress to aid the
mother in the household duties, and followed her everywhere to the
dairy, to the stable, to the hen-house, taking on herself the hardest
part of the work, repeating always, "Let me do it Madame Boitelle," so
tha