the old man, merrily; "it is very likely that she shuns you
for the reason of your not opening your mouth; you scare the young girl
with your morose airs."

"Oh, if that were only true," sighed the disconsolate swain.

"Now," said the old man, "there only remains for me to know the name of
my future daughter-in-law."

The young man was about to pronounce the name which already trembled on
his lips when a sudden clamour interrupted the most interesting portion
of this conversation. The peasants, followed by the partners, were
rushing towards the house, and in the twinkling of an eye the room was
filled with the animated and noisy throng. The new-comers wore rich
costumes, more or less copies of Stephano's; some carried guitars,
others castanets, while most of them leaned upon tall peeled rods,
forked at the top, and ornamented with ribbons of all colours; each
carried on the left side of his vest a bouquet similar to that of
Stephano. The young girls in their silken bodices, short skirts, red
stockings and mantillas, rattled their castanets as they entered with
their partners. The joyous crowd surrounded Don Pedro, whilst cries of
"Rosita! Rosita!" resounded from all sides.

"Well, well, my children, what is it you want?" demanded the village
Nestor of his clamorous audience.

"We want Mlle. Rosita," they repeated.

"What, my niece? But is she not with you? I thought it was she whom you
were leading just now round the corn sheaves."

"That is true," replied one of the foremost of the crowd; "everything
went smoothly until we wished her to take part in our usual ceremony of
'The Maiden's Choice.'"

"Did you explain to her," asked the old man, "what is the ceremony?"

"Yes, we told her all that was necessary: that it is an old custom in
Panola on harvest day, after having escorted the daughter of the house
round the last sheaves of corn, for all her admirers in the village to
present her, each in his turn, with a bouquet; that she must then choose
the one she loves amongst them by retaining his bouquet, whilst the
others are rejected. She answered us by saying that she had only been in
Panola a few months, and was therefore not forced to adopt our customs,
and leaving us with these words she fled from us and escaped through the
little granary door."

"The little shrew!" Don Pedro exclaimed, who, like an amiable old man,
was always on the side of the young folk. "But my friends," he added,
"you are but poor Lot