Gradually her eyes closed, and she was falling into a state of delightful languor. She was, in fact, almost asleep, when she felt two hands on her bosom, and then she sprang up at a bound. It was Jacques, one of the farm labourers, a tall powerful fellow from Picardy, who had been making love to her for a long time. He had been looking after the sheep, and seeing her lying down in the shade, he had come stealthily, holding his breath, with glistening eyes, and bits of straw in his hair.
He tried to kiss her, but she gave him a smack in the face, for she was as strong as he, and he was crafty enough to beg her pardon; so they sat down side by side and talked amicably. They spoke about the weather, which was favourable for the harvest, of the season, which had begun well, of their master, who was a decent man, then of their neighbours, of all the people in the country round, of themselves, of their village, of their youthful days, of their recollections, of their relations, whom they would not see for a long time, perhaps never again. She grew sad as she thought of it, while he, with one fixed idea in his head, rubbed against her with a kind of a shiver, overcome by desire.
“I have not seen my mother for a long time,” she said. “It is very hard to be separated like that.” And her gaze was lost in the distance, towards the village in the North, which she had left.
Suddenly, however, he seized her by the neck and kissed her again; but she struck him so violently in the face with her clenched fist, that his nose began to bleed, and he got up and laid his head against the trunk of a tree. When she saw that, she was sorry, and going up to him, she said: “Have I hurt you?” He, however, only laughed. “No, it was a mere nothing”; only, she had hit him right in the middle of the nose. “What a devil!” he said, and he looked at her with admiration, for she had inspired him with a feeling of respect and of a very different kind of admiration, which was the beginning of real love for that tall, strong wench.
When the bleeding had stopped, he proposed a walk, as he was afraid of his neighbour’s heavy hand, if they remained side by side like that much longer; but she took his arm of her own accord, in the avenue, as if they had been out for an evening walk, and said: “It is not nice of you to despise me like that, Jacques.” He protested, however. No, he did not despise her. He was in love with her, that was all. “So you really want to marry me?” she asked.
He hesitated, and then looked at her sideways, while she looked straight ahead of her. She had fat, red cheeks, a full, protuberant bust under her loose cotton blouse, thick, red lips, and her bosom, which was almost bare, was covered with small beads of perspiration. He felt a fresh access of desire, and putting his lips to her ear, he murmured: “Yes, of course I do.”
Then she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him for such a long time that they both of them lost their breath. From that moment the eternal story of love began between them. They played with one another in corners; they met in the moonlight under a haystack, and gave each other bruises on the legs with their heavy nailed boots underneath the table. By degrees, however, Jacques seemed to grow tired of her; he avoided her; scarcely spoke to her, and did not try any longer to meet her alone, which made her sad and anxious; and soon she found that she was pregnant.
At first, she was in a state of consternation, but then she got angry, and her rage increased every day, because she could not meet him, as he avoided her most carefully. At last, one night, when everyone in the farmhouse was asleep, she went out noiselessly in her petticoat, with bare feet, crossed the yard and opened the door of the stable, where Jacques was lying in a large box of straw, over his horses. He pretended to snore when he heard her coming, but she knelt down by his side and shook him until he sat up.
“What do you want?” he then asked her. And she, with clenched teeth, and trembling with anger, replied: “I want … I want you to marry me, as you promised.” But he only laughed, and replied: “Oh! If a man were to marry all the girls with whom he has made a slip, he would have more than enough to do.”
Then she seized him by the throat, threw him on to his back, so that he could not disengage himself from her, and half strangling him, she shouted into his face: “I am in the family way! Do you hear? I am in the family way?”
He gasped for breath, as he was nearly choked, and so they remained, both of them, motionless and without speaking, in the dark silence, which was only broken by the noise that a horse made as he pulled the hay out of the manger, and then slowly chewed it.
When Jacques found that she was the stronger, he stammered out: “Very well, I will marry you, as that is the case.” But she did not believe his promises. “It must be at once,” she said. “You must have the banns put up.” “At once,” he replied. “Swear before God that you will.” He hesitated for a few moments, and then said: “I swear it, by God.”
Then she released her grasp, and
